


"Can I See You?"

by Ninnodesu



Category: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: AU, F/M, Jeez this boy has a naughty mouth, Masturbation, Modern Day, Sexting, Thomas communicates, Thomas is also dirty, Toys, Vaginal Masturbation, modern day AU, phonesex, who knew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28836870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninnodesu/pseuds/Ninnodesu
Summary: You got stuck in traffic due to an accident and decided to text one of your mystery buddies.
Relationships: Leatherface | Thomas Brown Hewitt/You
Comments: 20
Kudos: 79





	1. Businesstrip

**Author's Note:**

> Modern-day AU:
> 
> It's still Thomas B. Hewitt we know, the only thing that's different is the fact that it's set in modern days!  
> Making it easy for our Big Man to actually communicate with the help of text messages.
> 
> He gots one of those nasty vocabularies.
> 
> I'm still learning how to write smut, okay :(  
> Also, try changing my mind that Modern!Thomas wouldn't have both tattoos and a frenum piercing.  
> Oh, and sorry that this is AFAB, but it's easier for me to practice writing smut since I'm cis myself, but one day I might evolve!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a simple modern day AU with our boy Tommy where he can communicate with both ASL and the use of text-to-speech apps.

You sigh as you lean your head on your steering wheel and bonk it a few times.  
“Please. Move. Please. Move. Please. Move.”, you chant in rhythm to your head hitting it, and glare out at the cars in front of you. 

Of course, you got stuck in traffic. And of course, you still had about maybe two hours left to drive to get home, meaning, you would get home much later than you had hoped. Turning your head, you decide to unbuckle your seatbelt and just lean in more comfortably on your wheel instead and look out at the horizon to your left.

“I jus’anna’go’ome.”, you mumble into your arms and groan slightly before fishing your phone out of your pocket to lazily browse your social media in a rotation, hoping something will happen, knowing nothing will.

The line of cars is ever un-moving in front of you, and you can even see some people going out to check on the miles of cars. Checking the news section, you see the cause of the traffic jam. A big accident, apparently. With several cars.

“Well, I’m not gonna get home any time soon…”.  
A thought crosses your mind as you scroll through your contacts, looking for a specific little icon you know so well at this point. 

A chainsaw one. 

You press it and bring up the message window to your earlier conversations and start typing.

> **“I’m stuck.”**

It takes maybe five minutes before you hear the familiar chime.

> _“In a baby swing?”_
> 
> **“Ha-ha. No.”** **  
> ** **“In traffic.”  
>  ** **“And I’m bored.”**

You knew he had a particular small pet-peeve to _other people_ multi texting but had a habit of doing it himself.

> “ _And you think I care?”_
> 
> **“I know you do.”**
> 
> ****_“I don’t.”_
> 
> **“You seem in a happy mood…”** **  
> ** **“What made you so grumpy?”**
> 
> **  
> ** _“Can’t get the shower to work.”_ _  
> _ _“And I really want to take one”_ _  
> _ _“but my uncle is an ass and refuse to fix the plumbing”_ _  
> _ _“so I have to.”_

All you do is sit there and watch as the pet-peeve he so vehemently screams about when you do come through.

> **“Uh-huh. All I could focus on were you, naked, alone.”**
> 
> **  
> ** _“No.”_
> 
> _  
> _ **“What do you mean by “no”?**
> 
> **  
> ** _“I won’t do it.”_

He saw right through you. You’d been talking with this somewhat mysterious man for a few months now, you’d never seen him, all he’d done was to describe himself to you, but you had never seen his face directly before.  
He refused to send any kind of clear picture of himself, but you loved teasing him about it in a friendly way, making sure to never sound like you were making fun of him. And even if he seems like he didn’t want to, he also seemed to loosen around this subject, one time going as far as to send half of a mirror selfie to you.  
  
Showing a strong arm with a tattoo covering most of it that pictured a chainsaw - the sole reason why you’d saved his phone number as a chainsaw icon, not thinking about asking him for his name - shoulder long brown hair flowing in locks and the half of what seemed to be a broad chest. He had his face turned away, sadly, but what you saw made you more curious. It seemed like he was wearing a mask in the photo that covered the parts of his face that were visible in the mirror.

> **“Aaw, come on. I know you’re hiding something really handsome. I won’t tell anyone~”** **  
> ** **“What if I send you something naughty? ;)”**

This time he seemed to disappear on you for a longer time and during the thirty minutes he was gone you thought you had almost offended him or finally made him tired of your ramblings. But then the chime came back.

> _“Finally!”_
> 
> _  
> _ **“Finally I’m getting a nude?”**
> 
> **  
> ** _“...”_
> 
> _  
> _ **“I’m just messing with you, big man.”**
> 
> **  
> ** _“Look, you won’t like what you see, okay?”  
>  _ _“I’m nothing more than a freak”  
>  _ _“I’m ugly and disfigured”_ _  
> _ _“that’s all there is to this.”_ _  
> _ _“People don’t like looking at me”_ _  
> _ _“so I don’t bother showing my face to anyone”_

A part of you broke when you saw his confession. He had never told you why he didn’t send you pictures, and you didn’t want to pressure him by asking.  
All you did was type one reply.

> **“Try me.”**

****Silence.  
_Pding!  
  
_ This time, however, you froze when the notification said that “ _Has sent an attachment_ ”. Your thumb hovered over the small icon with its glowing and angry red one. You opened the chat, and the attached photo showed you a man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, he had one arm laid over his broad chest, the one heavily tattooed arm taking the mirror selfie resting on the one crossed over the chest.  
He did have a mask on, it looked homemade, but what you could see showed a strong jawline and a masculine face. The most striking part of him was his eyes, they were amazingly blue, and he looked directly into the camera. And you _melted._  
  
Your eyes traveled over his tank topped clad shoulders, down his biceps, and up to his arms. He looked like he was made by an artist. His dark locks sweaty after seemingly working the plumbing, a sheen of sweat lingering on his collarbone.

“Jesus fucking… christ…”, was all you could mumble behind your mouth. Seemingly in a trance, as you just ogled the stranger you’ve barely gotten to know, the two of you mostly using the other for some sexual relief during the nights. You glanced up to the traffic in front of you, making sure it was still stuck and yes, just as stuck as when you first messaged him. Your phone chimed into a melody as a series of short sentences came through, and you woke up from your trance.

> _“I’m sorry…”  
>  _ _“I’m not what you expected, am I?”  
>  _ _“I figured.”_ _  
> _ _“This is why I never sent you anything back.”_
> 
> **“No, I… You’re just really… really handsome. I couldn’t stop looking at the picture.”** **  
> ** **“I really can’t. I had no idea this is who I was having such naughty thoughts about at night.”**
> 
> **  
> ** _“Heh… No need to be polite.”_
> 
> _  
> _ **“I’m not being polite! I’m being honest!”**
> 
> **  
> ** _“You really like it?”_
> 
> _  
> _ **“Yeah… I do.”** **  
> ** **“Can I ask why you wear the mask, though?”** **  
> **

Silence. You tapped the side of your phone as you saw the three dots.

> _“My face isn’t like everyone else's”_ _  
> _ _“I don’t want to scare you off”  
>  _ _“like I do with everyone else”_

You bite the side of your thumb. His responses made your heart sting. How would anyone be scared of him? You want to see more of him, want to see him without the mask. And suddenly, you felt nervous. You’ve never been nervous about having sessions of dirty talk with him before, but now? When you’ve seen him? You were. And you decided to take the plunge and ask for more.

> **“Can I see more of you…?”**

For some reason, you were shaking as you pressed send. 

_Why do I suddenly feel like a fucking schoolgirl?!,_ you thought as you waited for a reply, feeling a small tingle starting to emerge in your body.

A new picture came your way, this one accompanied by a text on top of it.

> _“Time to give the new plumbing a test drive…”_

He had no shirt on this time, your breath hitched slightly as you saw his bare torso. His mask was off, but he had one hand hovering over his face, parts of it seen through sprawled fingers. Like he did want to show you, but not all at once. What you saw was shocking, yes, and you couldn’t deny that fact.  
His nose was missing, large parts of his face were scarred and dried, but you didn’t care. All you could really focus on was his blue eyes.  
  
Your own traveled over what you could see. He was gifted with the absolute perfect ratio of muscles and fat all over his body. A towel wrapped around his waist, the angle of the camera showing a beautifully delicious happy trail leading down from his navel down below the towel. 

> **“Are you sure you’ve never taken photos like this…?”**

You couldn’t help but tease a little bit.

> _“Positive…”  
>  _ _“Am I doing good?”_

You breathe a laugh out.

> **“You’re doing great.”** **  
> ** **“I hope you think of me when you shower~”** ****

The cars finally started moving again after that message and you happily went on your way home. Having a hard time ignoring the chiming that went on in the passenger seat next to you, having to chew the inside of your cheek as to focus on the road the best you could. Absolutely not thinking about this mysterious man you’ve never met before having a shower… naked. 

When you finally arrived home you basically threw everything on the couch and almost ran to your bedroom.  
Sinking down on your bed, covered by big pillows, you take a shaky breath while opening your phone to check your messages.  
There weren't many, but the few you had from the giant man was enough to send chills running down your spine to end up exploding in tingling fireworks between your legs. You chewed your lip slightly as you opened his chat. 

> _“Would be nicer if you could join me, though.”_

Another picture had joined the chat while you were driving. 

The bathroom is foggy, the mirror covered by condensation, but he’d wiped straight across it so he could take another picture in it. 

This was the one where he had - _apparently_ \- gathered enough strength to show his entire face.  
His hair was dripping, laying over the upper half of his face, eyes peeking through it, and he had a towel laid over his shoulders, the one hand not holding the phone in the midst of wiping excess water from his thick and wide neck. Although now, a smirk was splayed across his lips, lips that seemed to be missing a few pieces, but god did they look kissable. His smirk letting you know he knew something you didn’t.  
  
This angle also showed a bit of skin like the earlier one had done, but this time you couldn’t see a towel in the fogged-up mirror. This bastard had consciously wiped the mirror off just enough for you to see his face and down just above his navel where the fog took over, covering the rest of him up.  
This one also had a message over it, strategically placed on the lower end of the picture.

> _“I hope you make it home fast, I want to practice this thing. ;)”_

You trace the shape of his body, thoughts running wild at how his hands would feel, what sounds he would make if you bit down on his throat, his strong hands gripping and groping every part of your own body.  
You two had exchanged dirty texts for a long time now. It had mostly only been dirty words, with you sending him the occasional picture, but he’d never sent anything back. Until now. You couldn’t help but smile at that fact. 

> **“This is a new side of you.”** **  
> ** **“I’m home now, by the way”** **  
> ** **“I like these welcome home messages ;)”**

All you do as you wait for a reply is look at the pictures again. You had no idea this was the man you’d been talking to. He did describe himself, but it was obvious he was oblivious to just how _attractive_ he actually was. You did guess it was because of his facial deformities, and while you could agree that it was bad, all the words you’d exchanged between each other made so it didn’t matter.  
  
This man was _hot._

> _“Heh… Welcome home.”_ _  
> _ _“Mmh. I’m not sure what happened”_ _  
> _ _“but I wanted to make you happy”  
>  _ _“and if showing my ugly mug makes you happy”_ _  
> _ _“so be it.”_

You frowned when you read how he called himself ugly.

> **“You’re not ugly. I can’t stop looking at you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you on my drive home, either. My thoughts have been nothing but impure because of your pictures~”**
> 
> **  
> ** _“What did you think about?”_
> 
> _  
> _ **“You really want to know such dirty things?”**
> 
> _“Mmh. Tell me.”_ _  
> _ _“‘specially if it’s dirty. ;)”_

You sank down lower on the bed, biting your lower lip as you pondered how to word your response. Deciding it’s time to bring the teasing out and see if you can lure more pictures from him.

> **“Mmh~ I don’t know… What do I get if I do?”**
> 
> _“Are you starting to bargain?”_
> 
> **“Maybe~ ;)”  
>  ** **“Maybe I just need some convincing before I actually tell you such naughty things”**
> 
> _“You’ve never had any problems in telling me naughty things before, little lady.”  
>  _ _“Why now, all of a sudden?”_
> 
> **“Tell you what, big guy. If you do me two favors, I’ll tell you what I was thinking about…”  
>  ** **“Deal?”**

Your phone got quiet for a minute, you figured he was thinking about your proposal.

> _“Deal.”_
> 
> _  
> _ **“First, tell me your name. I want a name to moan while cumming to that handsome face of yours”** **  
> ** **“Secondly, I want another picture~”** **  
> ** **“It doesn’t have to be spicy, I just want to see more of you.”**

It was weird, but you’d never thought about asking his name before. You guessed it was because you didn’t have a face to him until now.  
Apparently, he had decided to play along, seeing as he’d sent you a new photo. 

It showed you a lap, thighs that looked just as muscular as his upper body, he was sitting down, relaxing it seems.  
This man was either a huge tease by nature, or he knew how attractive a guy in gray sweatpants was because he had chosen to put a pair on. His left hand lazily resting on his left thigh, big fingers adorned by clunky rings and a worn-out watch on his wrist. Nothing sexual, if it wasn’t for the generous outline of what seemed like a properly proportional dick resting in between his meaty thighs _._  
And a name sprawled in simple text.

_“Thomas.”_

You hummed to yourself. 

> **“Well, Thomas, I guess it’s up to me to uphold my part of the deal then... “**
> 
> _“I’m waiting, darlin"_

A tingle runs down your back again, he’s never called you that before.

> **“I was thinking about you in the shower. How the water ran down you back, how much I would love to be in it with you, pressing my tits against your back as my hands run down your strong arms”** **  
> ** **“then back up to massage your shoulders. You don’t know how much I wanted to do that, to join you in your shower. I want to run my tongue on your throat, I want to know what you taste like”**
> 
> _“You can’t.”_
> 
> **“I know, and it’s killing me. And now when I’ve seen you, I want you more. Want to hear you breathe in my ear as you fuck me”  
>  ** **“to hear you moan”  
>  ** **“you have no idea how hard you make me cum when we talk”**
> 
> _“This is definitely a new side to you”  
>  _ _“I didn’t know you could talk like this”  
>  _ _“what’s made you this bold? ;)”_
> 
> **“You, Thomas. You awoke something in me when you showed me your face.”**

You can’t help but be honest with him at this point. You agree that you’ve never talked to him like this before, even if you’ve been texting dirty, it’s never been to this point.  
Arousal starts to build up between your legs and you press your thighs together, not wanting to give in just yet.

> _“That makes me happy, baby.”  
>  _ _“Nice knowing I have this effect on you”  
>  _ _“so, you’re telling me I make you horny?”_
> 
> **“Don’t act like you don’t know you do.”**
> 
> _“I do, but I want to you say it”  
>  _ _“I want to see you admit I make you horny”  
>  _ _“tell me I’m the one who makes your pussy wet”_

A shaky breath escapes you seeing him talk like this, but you give in and give him what he wants. 

> **“Thomas, you make me so horny. You’ve always had.”**
> 
> _“That’s my girl”  
>  _ _“You like how I talk about how I would fuck you?”_ _  
> _ _"_ _Is that what you like hearing?”_
> 
> **“Yes…”**
> 
> _“Mhm.”_ _  
> _ _"_ _I bet you would look lovely stretched around my cock”_

That was the point where you couldn’t ignore the growing arousal spiking through your body, and you could feel yourself starting to get wet by the thought of him ravishing you.  
Him moaning as he pushed inside your wet cunt. Your thighs rubbed harder, your hand shaking as you could only watch the three dots come up as he was typing.

> _“Show me.”  
>  _ _“Show me how your body reacts to me”  
>  _ _“I want to see how wet I make you”_
> 
> **“Persuade me…”**

You grinned, thinking you had the upper hand this time.

> _“Nuh-uh”  
>  _ _“you don’t get to set the rules this time”  
>  _ _“this time; I’m in charge”  
>  _ _“and if I want you to show me your pussy before I give you more”  
>  _ _“that’s what you’ll do”_

You shivered _hard_ at this series of texts from him. You loved that he showed his dominant side.  
Pulling off your jeans along with your moist panties, you sit back on the bed, half laying, snapping a cheeky photo of your lower half, fingers only crazing your mound, being more in a teasing mood than in a _give-him-what-he-wants-straight-away_ kind of mood.

A satisfied smirk dances on your lips as you send it away.   
Not long after a reply comes.

> _“Don’t play games with me, now.”_
> 
> **“Or what? You’ll spank me?”  
>  ** **“You know you can’t do that~”  
>  ** **“So what’s gonna stop me?”**

A few minutes of silence followed before you got another picture, one that made you moan slightly at the sight of it.

His left hand was grabbing over his crotch, fondling what looked like a half-hard cock through his pants, nothing fancier. But it did look like he was definitely… _proportional_ to the rest of him that you’ve seen. 

> _“if you don’t stop playing games, the pictures stop here”  
>  _ _“and I think you want to see more than this.”_

You cursed him silently because he was right. _God_ did you want to see more than that _._ You huffed at his reply and decided to be good and give him what he wanted. 

Spreading your legs as wide as you could, you snapped the photo he wanted. Showing him how wet you already were. 

Over it, you slapped a text.

> **“See how wet you’ve made me by only showing me what you look like. This is what only your words did earlier, now this is because you showed me ~”**

You scrolled up to watch the latest picture he showed you and massaged slow circles around your clit while waiting for a reply. You wanted to see what he was hiding inside his pants. Finally, his reply came.

> _“That’s what I wanted to see”  
>  _ _“to think I did that to you”  
>  _ _“you make me hard, baby”_

His multi texting habits were really going strong today, and you giggled a bit at it before replying. 

> **“Oh yeah?”  
>  ** **“I’ve shown you mine, now show me yours ;)”**
> 
> _“Mmmmhhh…. No”_
> 
> **“Why not? You can’t tease me with a picture like that and then not follow up with more”**
> 
> _"_ _Because you haven’t earned it yet”  
>  _ _“and I just don’t feel like showing you my fat cock just yet is all”_
> 
> **“What do I have to do to deserve it,** **_mister?_ ** **”**

He’d admit it early on that calling him _mister_ or _sir_ sent chills down his spine, something you’ve used sparingly, as to not overuse it on him. The thought of him caving in and finally showing his cock made you rub your clit a little harder, earning a low moan as you tried picturing it behind closed eyes.

_Pding!_

> _“Hmm…”  
>  _ _“surprise me with a movie”  
>  _ _“but don’t tell me what it is.”_

Oh, you liked that idea. You thought for a bit before you figured something out. 

Pulling your top off, laying naked on your bed, you started the recording. 

Angling the camera to focus on you sucking on two fingers, making them nice and wet, and making sure a string of saliva was attached between your lips and your fingers as you removed them from your mouth. You slowly moved your hand down together with your phone, until you reached one of your breasts where you circled a hardening nipple with your saliva drenched fingers, making sure to amplify your breathing. 

As your hand traveled downwards, the one holding your phone stopped right at your navel and returned up to your face to focus on your expression as your fingers reached your wet cunt and pressed down on your clit, something that was accompanied by a breathy moan of his name.  
“Thomass…”, right before you turned the recording off you made sure to look straight into the camera with lustful eyes.

On the receiving end of that video, Thomas quickly opened the message. Eyes wide as he followed the way your fingers moved down your body, around your breast, gingerly moving around a nipple.  
He cursed silently to himself as you stopped filming downward right above your navel, but when the camera returned up to show your face and the way he heard his name escape your lips as you reached that sweet, sweet spot between your legs, some part of him snapped. 

He shot up from the chair he was slumped in and silently sneaked over to his door to listen if anyone needed him in the house, it was silent, which was a good sign. He closed the door and locked it. Making sure no one would disturb him.

Sitting back down he smirked as he grabbed the base of his now rock hard cock, still tucked away in his sweatpants to snap a new picture, a small dark stain resting where the head was located. 

> _“That was dirty, see what you’ve done to me?”_

Right after sending the picture, he sighed as he slid his hand down into his sweats to lazily stroke himself, closing his eyes, he fantasized about how your lips would feel gliding over his cock and stroked it a way he thought your tongue would move, a trembling low groan left him at the thought. All regrets he had earlier have about starting to send pictures blown out the window as your voice replayed from his phone.

It dinged with a reply and he quickly looked at it. 

> _“I can get even dirtier~”  
>  _ _“You remember how I told you I went shopping a few days back?”_

He gulped, his hand was shaking slightly as he tapped away with this thumb. He _did_ remember you had briefly told him you went “shopping” a few days ago.

> **“Mhm. I remember that.”  
>  ** **“What did you get, baby?”**

His breathing went up a notch as he sent the question. His hand stopped moving, having to already calm himself down a notch. Your video and photo had worked him up something awful.

> _“Do you want to see~?”_
> 
> **“Oh hell yeah"**

It took a while to receive a response from you, but when he finally did, it was a photo. One that made his dick jolt in excitement. 

It showed you, holding a dildo against your tongue. He shivered hard at the sight, a tingle reaching his cock. 

> **“You got that just for me? ;)”**

He smirked slightly. 

> _“I did… I thought of you when I bought it.”  
>  _ _"_ _Wanna see me use it~?”_
> 
> **“Fuck yourself for me”  
>  ** **“I promise to give you material”  
>  ** **“you won’t regret it, believe me”**

He finally let his erection spring free, the hefty weight of it making it bounce back on his stomach and he sighed again in relief.  
He pondered if he should send another photo already, but decided to tease a little longer before giving in. It took a while to get a new reply, during this time he entertained himself with lazily stroking his leaking dick. Smearing precum over his sensitive head, a finger caressing over the silvery barbell placed right under it, his breath hitching as his sensitivity had gone up tenfold since got the small jewelry.  
The other arm is flung over his eyes as he tilted his head back and smiled as he always did when he was stroking himself, and deleted every single regret about getting the erotic piercing.

The ping of his phone jolted him back to reality.   
A video. He hesitated at first but decided to press play. 

It was you, at first sucking the dildo, swirling your tongue around the head of it, a string of saliva snapping as you smiled into the camera before moving both the phone and dildo slowly downward.  
A small gasp escaped you off-camera as you slowly pushed the fake dick into your already soaking cunt. You started slow, just teasing yourself with how it filled you, but after slowly pulling it out you suddenly shoved it in, and he vaguely heard his name escape you again.

One part of him couldn’t believe you were actually sending him videos, while the other part of him kicked itself for not asking for it earlier. This was pure _bliss_ for him. 

This video was what made lust take over, though, and he decided it was time for him to give you what you’ve asked for for a long time

Checking the lightning around him, he grabbed his cock at the base, angling it just right, he snapped a picture, doing his best to really show the sheer size of him. He was _fully aware_ of the fact that he was way above average. His butchering job making sure he’d seen a good amount of men, making him realize how big he actually was. His small light made the silvery part of him glint.

> **“I hope this is what you’re thinking of when you fuck yourself like that”  
>  ** **“because I sure as hell am thinking about fucking your tight pussy right now”**

_Sent._

The smile on your lips transformed into a needy grin as you bit down on your lower lip when you opened his convo, a quiet moan leaving you as you saw it.  
All you could do was stare. You dropped the toy to hide your blushing cheeks and needy grin behind your hand, for whom you hid, you had no idea. What you saw must’ve been the biggest dick you’ve ever seen outside of porn. 

He must’ve been around 7 - 7,8 inches long, the girth almost scary, your toy suddenly felt way too small for you and you spasmed around nothing. You couldn’t help but drool slightly as you followed every inch of him, brows furrowing in want when you saw the barbell snugly fastened under his swollen and leaking head. 

After ogling the huge cock, you gave him what he wanted; you to admit that he was right.

> **“You’re right, big boy.”  
>  ** **“I did want to see this”  
>  ** **“I wanna taste you”**
> 
> _"Yeah?”  
>  _ _"You wanna suck my dick?”_

A shiver runs down your back as your fingers play through your folds at the way he’s talking to you.

> **“Yeah, I do”  
>  ** **“I want to hear you moan as I swallow your big fat cock down my throat”**

The phone went quiet for a minute or two before you got an attachment sent your way, this time, _he_ had sent a video, and you thought you were going to lose your mind at what you saw.

Pressing play, you saw his cock twitching in his hand before he slowly started stroking himself. He was slow at first, teasing himself - or you, you weren’t sure and didn’t care at this point - before he decided to up his tempo.  
Off-camera, you could hear his heavy raspy breathing, a deep moan, and something that sounded like a breathy “ _fuck_ ”, it was low like he didn’t mean for it to escape his throat.

> **"Where have you been all my life?"  
>  ** **"Your cock is amazing"**

This time, you grab your dildo and sit down in front of the full-body mirror you've placed in your bedroom. Spreading your legs, you tease your slit with the toy smiling straight into the camera and furrowing your brows with want and need before pushing the toy in your wet cunt. You fuck yourself slowly as you decide to start talking instead, asking one simple question.  
“Want to watch me cum?”

When Thomas' phone dinged he almost dropped it out of excitement. 

His head rolled back against his chair as he watched you fuck yourself, a growl low in his throat as he started dreaming of how it would feel when your muscles clench around him, making sure to squeeze his own hand in a desperate way to mimic that feeling. He started thinking how in the hell he’d been happy just reading your words earlier and seeing the occasional nude photo coming from you. 

The videos were _so. much. better._ _  
_ He almost couldn’t type anymore. He’d lost his words in fogginess that was lust, if he talked he’d be speechless at the amazing view coming from his phone.   
He was close, but he refused to cum without seeing you do the same, letting his aching cock go, he pulled up the keyboard.

> **"Please…** "  
>  **"I do want to see you cum"  
>  ** **"need to"  
>  ** **"need to see that beautiful pussy cum because of me"**

You huff slightly as you see his desperate plea for you to show him. But at this point, you can't keep edging yourself. Your pussy clenched hard as you watched yourself in the mirror. 

_Alright,_ you thought. _I'll give you what you want_

> **"Do you think of me when you cum, Thomas? Ever think of how I would look covered in your cum?"**

Hurrying, you prop your phone up in a standing position, making sure you are well visible in the camera you hit record; Your toy pumps in and out in a hectic tempo, hitting a really sweet spot inside your cunt, the other hand rubbing your clit. 

Your orgasm was approaching fast and just moments before it hit, you look straight into the camera and with a breathy voice you say;   
"Because I think of you when I do." And just as your orgasm hits, you throw your head back, your voice loud as you scream his name in ecstasy.

Before stopping the recording, you lean in close to your phone and whisper;  
"I hope you do."

He was in the middle of replying to your questions when he saw you’d sent him a video, completely ignoring to reply to you, he pressed play.  
Thomas’ mouth just hung open as he watched the - _for him_ \- most beautiful and erotic scene he’s ever seen play out on his phone. His hand pumped in time with the way you fucked yourself and he almost had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from moaning out loud in fear of his family heard him. 

The sounds your toy made as it went in and out of your wet cunt sent shivers down his spine and exploded in a myriad of tingles in his dick, making it twitch, his own orgasm building at a rapid speed. 

But when he heard and saw you cum, and the way you screamed his name as you did, he couldn’t hold it at bay any longer.  
His orgasm washed over him, a low choked groan left his lips as his thick and almost cream-like seed shot over and covered his hand, landing a good way up to his chest.  
He forced himself to let his phone go because if he didn’t, he would surely have crushed it the way his fist clenched until his knuckles turned white. He grit his teeth, heavy, huffing and wheezing breaths coming from his lungs.

You’d made an absolute mess out of him, and you hadn’t even touched him. Sweat was running down his temple, his hair stuck on his neck, he was absolutely _spent_. 

_If only you knew,_ he tilted his head back, trying to catch his breath, _how much I think of you when I do._

It's been two weeks since you've heard from this man who now has a name resting before his little chainsaw icon. It wasn't that weird not hearing from him for a few days, but never two weeks.   
You'd gotten a special assignment from work, meaning you'd had to travel to Texas. Before you left you sent him a short message.

> **"I just wanted to tell you I'm going to drive for a while, so can't text much."**

No response. You guessed he'd had his fun with you, gotten what he wanted, and now he was tired of you. 

You were stranded at a small dip in the road, your car had broken down in the middle of it, but you had managed to push it into a safer spot away from the traffic - _if there actually were any._  
It was _hot_ and _humid._ And you hated yourself for actively choosing to drive instead of taking a flight as you kicked your car out of anger.

"I. Fucking. HATE YOU! You absolute…"  
_Kick  
_ "piece"  
_Kick  
_ "of"  
_Kick  
_"trash!"

You were hot and you suspected your skin was starting to turn red due to the angry sun screaming down at you. 

Footsteps coming your way distracted you momentarily from abusing your poor car and you got happy for only a moment as you went to turn to the person. Before you had the chance to fully turn towards them the butt of a gun slammed against your temple and everything went black.

You wake up with your head _throbbing,_ you move to sit up from an apparently horizontal position but notice you can't.

 _You're bolted down_.

"What…", you try looking around, but your position makes sure you can only flip your head from side to side, the room is cool and dim. From a distance, you hear voices shouting in what sounds like a heated argument.   
"Hello…?", you try to yell out.  
Your heart begins to beat in a rapid rhythm as the voices quiet down. They heard you.   
Not long after they go quiet, you notice the floor above you start cracking and creaking with footsteps, and soon after a door slides open.   
"Hello?", you try again. 

An angry voice rings out again;

"You heard me, boy! I don't give a rats fuckin' ass about what you say. You take care of 'er now, or I will!", the door slides shut again.

Heavy footsteps are coming your way, and your breathing starts picking up.   
"Who's there?", you hear heavy breathing in the room, the person is moving closer.   
"Please… I beg of you.", you try pleading to the stranger. You're so, _so_ scared, you don't know if you're about to get killed, or used for other things, to be locked up on the surface you’re pinned down to only be viewed as an object. You don't know _anything_. 

The person stops close to you, you see them in the corner of your eyes. But they're not saying anything, only watch you in silence.

You turn your head towards them, and they back off into a shadowy corner. They seem… afraid.   
"What do you want from me? Who are you?", they seem to flinch slightly at your words. You can see their whole body moving with each breath.  
"I don't know what you want!", tears start prickling in the corner of your eyes as panic sets in.   
"Please, let me go! I… I don't… I was just passing through!", you thrash against your restraints as your tears start streaming freely. Pain shooting through your restraints digs into your skin.  
"I don't want to die…", you sob. 

Thomas can't move. He's frozen. He wants to move, he really does, but his body refuses to cooperate. 

You're _here._ In the _basement._ Where everything grim happens. Where no one gets out alive. 

Where he is supposed to _kill_ and _butcher_ you.  
The person who’s been so nice to him over text messages, keeping him company during lonely nights. The one who willingly showed herself reaching her climax thanks to him, even after he had shown you his face.  
Charlie has already told him he can't keep you. He didn't care that Thomas knows you, he didn't give a fuck about how nice you've been, how you didn't stop talking to him after you've seen his face.   
Thomas had a job to do, but he couldn't.  
He's breathing heavily as your voice pierces the otherwise quiet basement, his mind flashes back to the video saved on his phone. All those late nights where he’d read your words with his hand down his own pants.

_You're here. What are you doing here?_

Three words from you wake him up from his trance-like state.

You sigh.   
"Just do it..", you've given up. You realize you won't get out of here alive, a part of you already accepting that fate. You won't see your family anymore. 

You'll never hear from Thomas again. The last thought makes another stream of tears run down the side of your face and you turn to your captor.  
"Please, do it fast… I… I don't want to feel pain.", a weak defeated smile reaches your lips, "Just kill me."   
Your last words seem to trigger movement in the figure as it moves towards a wall close to it, a small _click_ and a light flicker on. You're bathed in a harsh white light, your newly cried eyes burn slightly as you adapt to it. 

And you guess this is it.

The figure moves close to you again, and suddenly; he's right next to you. Your eyes widen in nothing but pure shock as you see dark, shoulder lengths locks.   
"What…", your heart beating a panicked drumming melody against your ribs. "You can't be…".  
The man reaches up to his head, and that's when you realize he's wearing a mask that looks way too familiar to you. He unbuckles it, and that’s when it clicks in your head.   
You see a face you recognize. A face you've dreamed off. A face you've masturbated to almost every night for two weeks.

But seeing this face makes tears well in your eyes for the third time and a cry that almost makes you scream bubbles up from your stomach.   
He just looks at you with sad eyes, eyes you wish you hadn’t seen, eyes you wish you _didn’t_ recognize. 

Thomas’ eyes.


	2. Wristburns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> \- Mentions of rape  
> \- Broken bones  
> \- Mentions of cannibalisms  
> \- Murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People wanted a sequel so my brain naturally started plotting a continuation. 
> 
> Maybe I have another chapter planned out, maybe I don't! Don't forget to subscribe and hit the little bell button to get notifie-

He could see in your eyes, how the tears welled up and streamed down your face that you’d recognize him and he left. He couldn’t look at you at this point, couldn’t look at you cry _because_ of him. He heard you cry behind him as he turned to go into his basement bedroom, his heart stung in his chest as he heard you beg and scream in fear. Closing the bedroom door, he proceeds to lean up against it, back pressed hard to it, eyes shut closed. Some kind of desperate way to make your panicked begging go away. 

_I can't, I can't, I can't,_ his inner voice chant like a mantra. His anxiety gets the better of him and he starts pacing, the wood under his feet already marked with a worn-out pattern left by his heavy boots after years and years of anxious pacing. A fierce battle erupts in his mind.

 _\- I can't kill her  
_ **\- You have to, and you know it _  
_ ** _\- No, I won't_  
**\- Come up with one good reason to fistfight the old man about this**  
_\- He would die and I wouldn't have to do this fucking thing anymore_  
**\- And what? You'll live happily ever after with this woman?**  
_\- I…_  
**\- She would never accept the truth**

Returning to his original place with his back to the door, he slowly sinks down to sit on the floor, one leg sprawled in front of him, the other resting under it. He's lost, he doesn’t know what to do.  
If he lets you go, you'll go straight to the police. If he kills you, he'll never hear from you again, he'll never see your face again, a sudden wave of intense nausea hits him at the thought of keeping the skin of your face to make a new mask. No, no he can't do _that._

This is the first time since he had to butcher his first human that he feels genuinely lost.

He's mad at his uncle for wasting the low amount of money they do have on ugly hookers and booze, having Thomas resort to this way of living. He never truly did want this. The first time Charlie, or _Hoyt_ as he wants to be called now - although Thomas never really did care about his apparent name change and still called him by Charlie to piss on his ego - talked to him about this, he threw up minutes after being left alone.

He still remembers the first time he got forced into butchering a person, just like it was yesterday, even though it’s nearly four years ago.

That day, he was on his way home from work, ending the day with bashing his old boss’s head in with a sledgehammer.  
The old man had disrespected his family, something Thomas wouldn’t stand for. Knowing that the security cameras were already turned off, he swung the hammer out of anger. He was mad that they were closing the slaughterhouse and he was hurt by the words that had been spoken. No one disrespects his family and gets away with it.  
Killing his boss didn’t wake any regrets. He believed the old man deserved it.  
The afternoon sun was still blazing down at his already sweaty form, propping his headphones on his head, he turned the music on full blast and lumbered home with no care in the world.

His right hand carried a memento of his old work, the slaughterhouse’s chainsaw.

As he had come out from a few trees up on the gravel road, a police car was parked by the side of it, the harsh blue and red light blinking to get his attention. Figuring he was caught, he took the headphones off, letting them rest around his neck and stopped in the middle of the road.  
His hair blew in front of his face as he took heaving breaths, waiting for the piercing pain of a bullet.

**Bang!**  
_Thud._

What greeted him instead of searing pain, was Charlie standing behind him, brandishing a shotgun and looking down at a police officer with the head blown off. Everything after that is a blur.  
Vague memories of Charlie talking to him about the plan, the body was laid out on an old table in the basement. He’d never seen this side of his uncle before, so he tuned out. Words like “ _do it”, “no money left”, “can’t afford”, “_ **_butcher him_ ** _”, “don’t tell mama”_ and the worst sentence he’d heard in his life; “ _you have to do this, Tommy. For the family._ **_We need meat to survive, boy.”_ ** echoed in his mind.

A loud bang coming from outside woke him from his memories. When he just seconds later heard your voice in a shrill pitch, he almost jumped off the floor and hurried out only to see you laying on the floor with half the table over you, the other half leaning against the metallic sink.

_Jesus christ…_

  
  


Being left alone again, your thoughts start racing and your heart along with it.

_Where did he go? Why is he here? Does he live here? Is he going to kill you? Rape you? Keep you as a hostage? Was that his family? What? Why? Where?_

It’s quiet, but you hear a faint shuffling coming from somewhere close to you. All you can do is lay there and look up at the ceiling, and to your left or right.

On your left you see what looks like a workbench, an apron rests on a hook next to it. It looks well used, stained with a dark and muddy hue of red. There's a sink and dirty towels hanging off the edge of said sink. The sight to your right, however, makes your stomach flip and turn on itself.  
There’s cleavers, knives, _hooks_ . Huge bins stained with the same red hue as the apron. Putting all the puzzle pieces together, your breathing increases, teetering on the edge of hyperventilating.   
Thomas, your Thomas. The Thomas you’ve gotten to know, the one you’ve missed for these two weeks, the one who made you all giggly when he sent you the first full-face selfie of himself… a _murderer_. 

As the adrenaline starts shooting through your body, you try wiggling a bit to see how bolted down you are. Your fastenings are tight and they burn as you try pulling your hands out. The metal just digs into your skin resulting in nasty burns.

_Fuck…_

That’s when an idea - or rather a small glimpse of hope - blooms in your head. Hopefully, the table is _not_ bolted down.  
It’s a stupid idea, and you know that if Thomas doesn’t kill you, the table most likely will. But rather the table, than the man you’ve slowly started to fall in love with during the months you’ve talked. Getting killed by Thomas’ hands would haunt you more in the afterlife than anything else. 

Gathering all the remaining strength, you throw the entirety of your body not bolted down to the side, doing your best to ignore the burning in your wrists and ankles. The first attempt yielded nothing major, the table moved, yes, but not to the extent you wanted.  
So you do it again, this time, the table goes down, and you with it. You feel the bone in your leg crack before you feel the brutal pain that explodes through it.

Your scream is high to the point where you feel your vocal cords strain and your voice slowly becoming lower, raspier. The pain is enormous, the throbbing pain in your leg thrumming together with your rapid heart.  
But - _thankfully_ \- your scream summons movement, footsteps, and voices. The most prominent footsteps, heavy ones, belong to Thomas as he’s the first one to your side. Even if you can’t see him, you see his clunky boots and grayish jeans, at least you _hope_ that’s Thomas and no one else. All you do is sob onto the floor, your tears pooling under your chin at the pain radiating from your leg… and the burns around your wrists. It takes a full minute before you see big fingers curling around the edge of the table, a grunt coming from above you before your vision starts flying. He was lifting the table up. A loud, hoarse cry escapes your dry throat as the table _thuds_ back into place, jolting your broken leg. 

You're about to scream again when your brain catches up to the cleavers and knives hanging to your right but quickly after the first raspy pitch leaves your throat, a hand clamps over your mouth. The rasping sound is muffled under the big hand and you can feel it moisten due to your breath, but all he does is put a finger to his lips in a shushing motion and plead with his eyes for you to stay quiet.  
Which you don’t, you rasp out a hoarse scream against his palm and keeps shooting daggers at him. My god, are you _pissed_ right now.

_Who the fuck are you, and what have done to the Thomas I know, you fucking animal!_

You don’t quiet down until you hear that sliding door slide open again and an angry voice rings out.  
"Thomas! What the fuck is that racket?!"

  
  


Thomas jerks his head up as he hears Charlie's voice. He's not sure what to do, his uncle’s footsteps thud down the stairs and soon enough, Thomas sees him in full and exchanges eye contact.  
"This bitch is still alive? Why haven't you taken care of'er yet, ya idiot?".

_Shit uh…_

He glances down at your dagger filled eyes while trying to figure how to keep you quiet and talk to his uncle at the same time, needing both hands to do so. He can't sign to Charlie if his hand is clamped over your mouth. Letting out an annoyed grunt, he grabs the nearest towel and shoves it into your mouth as quickly and deep down he can without choking you, making sure you can’t spit it back out. Seeing you so shocked, and angry and… some other kind of emotion he couldn’t place, he got the urge to show you some kind of affection. Resulting in him patting your cheek, his huge hand basically engulfing half your face before walking over to the stairs. 

"Well?", Charlie spits out his venomous words. Thomas' hands fidget a bit, nervousness taking a hold of him. 

_'I know her'  
_  
The same signs that he kept on repeating earlier, annoyance building inside him knowing that his asshole of an uncle refuses to learn more. Making it almost impossible to have a normal conversation with him.   
"Listen, Tommy, I. Don’t. Care.", the looks between the men are like venom. "You were 'sposed to get to work on'er before mama gets home. You know damn well how much she hates when the cattle scream."   
Thomas really can’t help the smirk hiding beneath his mask when he hears that. He glances up the stairs before checking the time on his wristwatch before shrugging, and pointing to it, and slowly signing two words he knows Charlie can decipher.

_'Fifteen minutes'_

That's when Charlie grabs the neck of Thomas' shirt and yanks him forward, the only reason he's able to is that he manages to catch him off guard. His breath reeks of alcohol. A clear cut sign that he’s drunk.  
"Listen here, you bastard. I've had enough of your defiance today. If _you_ ", he stabs a finger in Thomas' chest at the last word, "don't take care of that girl, _I will_ . And you know damn well I ain't going easy on'er."   
Charlie releases Thomas with a shove, making him stumble backward slightly. The final words from Charlie’s mouth before leaving the basement stings in Thomas’ heart.  
"I don't want to see your ugly ass upstairs until she's done for."

Thomas watches him leave and turn towards you who’s still crying silently on the table. 

His heart stings more and more the closer he shuffles to you.  
Sure, he had had nights where he dreamt that he would meet you. But not like this. _Never_ like this, never _here_ . He did _not_ want to see you on his butcher's block.  
At the same time, he moves to remove the towel he makes the same shushing motion towards you, with the same pleading eyes as earlier. This time, she nods. And Thomas lets out a sigh of relief.  
As he removes it, you’re panting, breathing sounding almost more like wheezing squeaks. He goes to rinse the towel under some lukewarm water to pat clean the bloody gash over the eyebrow that got hit to know you out before getting here. All the time, he feels a burning gaze on him, from eyes that are seemingly watching his every move. 

You wince when the damped towel touches your eyebrow, a wound you didn't know you had greeted you with a sting, a small hiss leaving you. Your eyes are glued to the giant man, making sure you see his hands at all times. You want to speak, but your throat is dry and hoarse, figuring out that your earlier screaming has annoyed your vocal cords to a great extent.   
So all you do is watch him. He, on the other hand, is doing his best to avoid making eye contact with you. And it pisses you off, but at the same time, it relaxes you and makes your heart hurt. 

_Why the fuck are you avoiding me?!_

The thought makes your eyebrows furrow. He’s seen you naked, yet can’t fucking look you in the eyes? You try thrashing a bit with your shoulders to try and get his eyes to yours, but to no avail. His tender way to clean your wound surprises you. This huge killer, this murderer, and straight-up _deranged man_ are making sure not to hurt you, and you can't help but breathe out a laugh. 

That's when he - _apparently_ \- seems happy with his cleaning and turns his back to you, he turns the water on and it sounds like he's rinsing something. Shutting the water off he moves out of your line of sight. A slight panic arises in your chest at the thought that he might have gone off to fetch whatever tool he seems fit to end your life. You hear a rummaging sound close by, and then he's back above you, looking down at you.   
This time, you feel a large hand on your head as he slowly and carefully tilts your head back, your eyes are met with harsh light and you shut them. That overwhelming want and need for him to look into your own eyes die down. Now, you _don't_ want to look at him when he slits your throat. 

But he doesn't.

You hear what sounds like a paper wrapping open. Two fingers press on either side of the gash over your eyebrow, a small whimper escapes you at the pinching pain, and then something sticky is attached to you. A band-aid. He had put a bandaid on the cut of your eyebrow. It isn't until you feel his hand leave your head that you open your eyes. And at that moment, your eyes are met with his blue ones.  
The way he's looking at you makes a tiny bit of your anger and hurt, and fear goes away. His blue eyes are filled to the brim with hurt, and sadness, and confusion. It almost looks like he’s about to burst into tears. He looks broken down. 

  
  
  


Thomas fiddles a bit with the paper wrapper of the bandaid after making sure it's secured on your eyebrow and proceeds to look down into your beautiful eyes, your eye color popping in the harsh light. Something in them reflects his own emotions. He doesn’t want this, he punishes himself for not responding to your text messages the past weeks, or that he didn’t reach out to you. What he’s looking at is clear cut torture for him.  
He wants to cry. 

_I'm so sorry…_

He hears the familiar clacking of his mother's shoes above the both of you, a sigh of relief escapes him. Patting the pockets of his jeans, he makes sure he has his phone and the keys to the basement before he heads over to the stairs. But he stops right before ascending them and looks over to you. 

He pulls his phone up, unlocks it swiftly, and goes to his text-to-speech app, making sure the volume is put on high before typing out two words and hitting the speech button.  
A male voice rings out through the basement. 

**"** **I'm sorry"**


	3. Cinnamon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Put a shirt on, Thomas
> 
> It hurts my heart writing about medical stuff being done at home in a modern setting because I, myself, is studying into the medical field. ffskäpk

Upstairs, Thomas is met with his uncle already arguing with his mama, and he lets out a huff of annoyance, he knows his uncle has already told her lies about him. His huff gets their attention as they turn towards him.

"Thomas Hewitt, is it true you ain't doing your job?", his mama’s eyes pierces him the way only she can, and he nods.   
"He's thinkin' with that dick of 'is, is all.", Thomas snaps his head towards his uncle and lets out a growl.

_You don't know the meaning of shutting up?_

"Charlie!", a small smack rings out in the room as his mama swats Charlie on the back of the head. "There will be no such language in my house!"

When Thomas sees her turn towards him again, he puts on the famous Little Tommy Eyes.  
The ones he always used when he would come home after playing in the woods all caked in mud. His eyes were always big as dinner plates, full of " _sorry, mama_ "s as his small boyish voice repeated " _I was just playing_ ". That look always melted his mama, often in the middle of reprimanding him for bringing in mud into the house before she always, _without fail_ , ended up carrying him into a bubble bath. 

Everyone in the Hewitt household knows that the big mountain of a man is a Mama's boy. Always has been, always will be.  
And even now, in his thirties, his eyes win.

A sigh escapes his mother and she puts a hand on his back.

"Come, hun. We're goin' to have a talk. And you, boy, go be useful somewhere!", she points an angry finger at Charlie, and being a spiteful nephew, Thomas can't help giving Charlie a look that screams " _I told you so_ " before he and his mother round the corner into the living room. They sat down at the small table located close to a window where his mother and her sister always sit to have tea together. He watched as she folded her hands on her lap, looking straight at him.   
“Now, Tommy. I want you to tell me what’s happenin’ here.”, she dropped her voice to the tone he remembered when he knew he was in trouble while growing up.

She was serious. “And I expect you to be honest with me, boy.”

_Well… This is it._ He thought. 

He never bothered telling his family about you, just like he never bothered with any of his friends, he knew what that would lead to. A stern lecture about how their “ _lifestyle”_ would be compromised, how his late night endeavours on the internet would lead to the family getting caught, blablabla. 

But now, he had no other choice, it was time to admit to his mother that he had met a girl on the internet that he actually liked. He drew a big breath to steady his nerves before shakily raising his hands, thankful for the fact that at least his mother had actually paid attention and taken the sign language classes seriously, unlike both his uncles. Uncle Monty not really giving a shit at all, while his uncle Charlie knew a sign here and there. He says himself that he “ _knows enough to get by_ ”, a lie, since he barely knew shit.

He figured it’s best to just start. 

* * *

Meanwhile in the basement, your head jerks towards the sound of the sliding door slowly sliding open. The sound of quiet footsteps coming down the stairs, it almost sounded like whoever it was was sneaking their way down. 

“Hello?”, you rasp out. No response. So you don’t bother, and return to follow the furrows of the wood on the ceiling above you. Then, a voice suddenly whispers out close to you.

“Ya’ really a password for your phone, girl.”, you recognize the voice as the older male who was arguing with Thomas earlier, and you look towards him as he comes into view, holding your phone.  
“I had no idea my nephew was talkin’ to such a slut.”, you frown up at him as he leans down next to you so you both can read your conversation with Thomas. You see his eyes read every single dirty word you’d said to each other. Skipping over the parts where you were only talking about everyday things.  
“I don’t think that’s any of your fucking business.”, you spit at him, trying your best to sound as serious as you can despite your ruined vocal cords.

He just smirks while scrolling in the conversation, making a disgusting sound as he licks his lips. A familiar moaning voice coming from your speakers. He just found the video you sent Thomas.  
“Oh, but you see, darlin’. It _is_ my business.”, he proceeds to lean over you, close to your face, before he continues, “because now, he refuses to do his job. All because of you.”

His eyes rake over your whole body, one of his hands is hovering just above you, and you feel sick to your stomach knowing exactly what this disgusting old man is thinking while doing so.  
“To think that _he_ got a girlie like you.”, he whistles quietly, “makes an old man like me real jealous.”, you turn your head away as he leans in and you whimper as you feel him place a alcohol filled kiss to your cheek. You can’t do anything to defend yourself, you can’t scream anymore, your eyes hurt from crying, your leg throbs, your wrists hurt.  
All you know at this moment is a breath reeking of alcohol, pain and a broken heart.

You feel a tongue graze your ear before he whispers into it.  
“Before I make Thomas kill you, I’ll make you feel good, darlin’.”, he moans out his last word and chuckles darkly before leaving you alone again. Your body is so weak at this point, your eyes burn as a few straggling tears escape, and you close your eyes. Your eyes scream for some rest.

* * *

  
_‘That’s why I can’t kill her mama’_

Finishing his motivation to not kill her, he proceeds to fiddle with his fingers instead, he looks at. They've been talking for almost an hour, only stopping for his mama to think and give some pointers, his uncle sneaking away from the sliding door to the basement caught his eyes once and he glared at him. His mother’s firm “Thomas.” bringing him back to the conversation. 

_‘And her leg is broken’_

She only opens her mouth to reprimand him for messing with his uncle. “You know we don’t disrespect family, Thomas.”  
Hiding a pout behind his mask, he hangs his head in shame and nods. Even if Charlie is an asshole towards him at times, he’s family. And if it’s something his mama has taught him throughout the years, it’s that family comes first. No matter _what_.

“But…”, she continues as she stands to walk away, and he perks up, lifting his head to look at her with hopeful eyes. “You may keep her, but only until her leg is healed.”, he shoots up and envelops her in a sweaty bear hug.

“And you share food from your plate, you hear me?”, she swats him on his arm hard enough for a loud “smack” to ring out, and he reacts with a raspy “ah” before rubbing his hand where her hand landed.  
“No fooling around, either. And stop fighting with Charlie!”. His face heats up at the “no fooling around”-comment.  
“Now come’ere. We need to gather what supplies we have.”, he grunts lightly and looks down at the red mark his mother left on his arm before trudging after her to grab medical supplies.

* * *

Down in the basement, he does his best to ignore the small jump his heart does as he sees you’ve apparently fallen asleep, or passed out, on the table. You look serene. Peaceful. No trace of the earlier fear and panic left on your now relaxed face.

Working carefully, he unbolts your wrists and ankles to help his mother stabilize your leg. Internally thanking you for choosing to wear shorts so he didn’t have to unbutton your pants, something that would most likely have made him suffer a heart attack.

“She’s pretty, Tommy.”, his mother whispers to him as she moves up to the broken leg. He follows her with his eyes and nods shyly, her voice is silent. “Do you know her name?”, he thinks for a few seconds before signing out the letters to your name, she just hums in response and proceeds to set their work up.

Since they both know they can’t safely give you proper medical care, Thomas is thankful for the fact that his mama had made use of online classes for necessary skills. 

“This’ll have to do.”, she backs up a bit and eyes the work they’ve put into your leg, and nods.  
Wiping her hands on her apron, she singlas for Thomas and starts moving to his basement bedroom. “Come on, hun. She’s staying down here.”, his head jolts towards her and he shakes his head in protest.  
“This is the safest place in the house.”, he shakes his head again and raises his hand to sign out protests.

_‘Please, mama, not down here’_

“Thomas Brown Hewitt!”, he relents and lets out an annoyed grunt, earning another smack on his arm as she can see him roll his eyes, “Don’t sass me, child!”, she jabs a finger close to his face before ordering him to pick you up from the table.   
“Listen to your mama and put her on your bed, and keep that leg of ‘ers high up.”, he lets out a humming sound close to “ _yes_ ” as he carries you over to the bedroom, doing his best to not wake you up. A part of him relishing in keeping your sleeping form pressed to his chest.   
“And make sure you give ‘er a drink!”, his mama yells back at him before he closes the door just enough to shield you from view as he lays you down on his bed. 

He thinks for a moment on what to prop your leg up on and looks around. Finally finding some pieces of clothing and a blanket that he scrunches up and puts under your leg.

A glass of water is sat down on the floor, Thomas deciding to sit down on an old lounge chair across from the bed, making him face you. He leans his head on his left hand just to watch you while waiting for his mama to return with something to eat. 

He has a hard time fully comprehending that you’re really here, in front of him. He’s never been a popular person, neither on the internet nor outside of it, years of bullying erasing any kind of self positivity. Sure, he did have some friends scattered around some websites, but most of them were just… there. A few permanent contacts, maybe two, or three, but here you were.  
Someone who had replied to one of his posts; one comment being all it took.

You always talked sweetly to him, never did you pester him about things he found uncomfortable, there was never any need to explain when and why he needed space. And you never asked where he had been or what he had done when he went away for several days to… _work_. You were still as happy as ever when he returned to your conversation.

You’d brighten these months for him exponentially. When he told you he worked as a butcher, carefully avoiding what exactly he butchered, you didn’t shy away like other people did. You were curious by it, fascinated almost, asking some stray questions as to how he’d gotten into it, why he chose that job and that was it. You accepted him. Nothing that had to do with him scared you. 

Fishing his phone up from his jean pocket, he opened your conversation, quickly swiping past all the naughty bits to get to the more sweeter moments. Reading through them, he smiled. 

Glancing up at you, an idea came to mind.   
He closed the conversation and started looking through all the apps to find the camera and zoomed into your relaxed face to snap a photo of you. He wanted to remember this, no matter what happened in the future. He wanted to remember the very first time he saw you this relaxed. 

His door knocked, and he swiftly closed his phone as he lightly tapped the toe of his boot on the floor, his own way of saying “come in”.  
“I bought something to eat, hun.”, his mama came in and the room was filled with the sweet aroma of cinnamon, on a plate were two big cinnamon buns resting, still warm. Thomas couldn’t help but to close his eyes and inhale the scent. He opened them again when he heard her laugh a little.

_‘If I break my leg, can I have some too?’,_ he grins at his own bad attempt to get a warm treat such as a cinnamon bun.

“There’s two, Tommy.”, she winks at him and he lets out a deep chuckle. 

_‘Thank you, mama’_

His mother sits the plate down next to the glass of water on the floor before she returns to the door and proceeds to lean up against the frame. A hurtful question is starting to grow in Thomas, and even if he doesn’t want the answer, he tugs lightly at his mama’s apron to get her attention. Without looking at her, keeping his eyes low and only slightly glancing over at your breathing form, he signs one question;

_‘Do I have to do it?’_

His mother just hums quietly towards the question before she replies. “You can keep her till she’s better, Tommy.”, he huffs at the same answer he had gotten earlier. 

_'That doesn’t even make sense, mama’  
_ _'You’ve always told me I should find someone’  
_ _'And now, when I finally found someone I like’  
_ _'I have to kill her’_

He glares up at her, annoyance, anger and hurt visible in his eyes. She meets his eyes, but her face is empty. 

“Is she an honest woman?”, he only lets out an annoyed breath. "You know family comes first...", she looks at him to finish her statement, and he does so reluctantly with plain lazy hand movements.

_'No matter what’_

"The girl’s your responsibility.", he starts tapping the back of his phone in an irritable way. Suddenly, there’s a sharp pain in his earlobe as she pulls him close to her, and he lets out a pained grunt at being pulled.  
"And you heard what I said about foolin' around!", she lets him go and he rubs the sore spot on his ear, face red as earlier. 

* * *

You groan slightly as you open your eyes. You clearly remember closing your eyes to give them rest after being sore and dry after your crying. What you didn’t intend to do, however, was to fall asleep. 

Scratching your scalp you realize you’re not bolted down anymore, and you hurriedly go to sit up but stop abruptly as you’re reminded about the pain in your leg. You hiss and slow down, resorting to only resting on your elbows as you look down to your… leg, in a _cast_ ?  
“What?”, as your brain wakes up from your unknowing nap you notice you’re also laying down on a bed instead. Slowly, you scoot yourself up to rest against the wall at the head of the bed. A light reaches through the slightly open door, a shuffling, a clinking and water flowing is heard outside. Clearing your throat, you call out.  
“Hello?”, you jolt slightly as a clatter rings out, the sound obvious evidence you had scared whoever was out there as it sounded like they dropped something.

Careful footsteps came your way and then a shy head popped into view and peered in on you from behind dark curls. You took the pillow from behind your back and hugged it close to your chest, like it would work as a shield. Looking at him as he peeked in through the opening of the door, he didn’t seem as frightening as before. Now, he looked like a kid. Someone who had just broken a vase and was too scared to tell his mom what he had done. But despite his innocent look, you couldn’t help the awful feeling in your stomach, that sinking realization of what he actually is, and what he’s done.

He surprised you though. Surprised you by lifting a shy hand and slowly waving it back and forth in a greeting. The gesture made you smile into the pillow, every ounce of rationality pushed aside.  
“Hi.”, you mumbled into the pillow. Instead of coming in, he just awkwardly stood there wringing his hands and fiddling with his fingers. Occasionally a hand would come down to pull on one of the chains hanging from his belt, like he was nervous being in your presence.  
You felt bed for him. Something you couldn’t believe you did, but you did feel bad for him at this moment.

“Do you… uhm… do you wanna come in?”, you ask timidly. A part of you actually wanting to talk to him. To get to know the Thomas you’ve known through your phone.   
He nodded, and came closer to you. But instead of sitting down or anything, he bends down next to the head of the bed and picks a plate up before setting it down in your lap.  
You look at the plate and then up to him. He’s in the middle of moving the lounge chair closer to you than it was before, he motions to the plate.  
“Oh! Is one of these… for me?”, you ask, genuinely confused. He nods excitedly as he sits down. The chair squeaked under his weight, and not long after he’s seated you’re presented with a glass of water.

Your brain is having a hard time piecing together what exactly is happening. First you’re bolted down to a table awaiting death by his hand and now he’s… _feeding_ you ? You just look at him with big questioning eyes, something he seems to notice. He reaches the glass out for you, you take it and then he starts moving his hands and fingers.  
“Wait… wait! Wait! Thomas, I… I don’t…”, you figure it’s sign language. Something you’ve never, _honestly_ , bothered learning.  
He stops, and sighs in defeat.  
“I’m sorry…”, setting the glass down at the floor again, you take one of the buns and give it to him. Looking at him with an apologetic smile.

You both munched on your respective bun in silence, only real sound being you cursing at the fact that you’re dropping crumbs all over the bed, for a minute before you speak up. 

"Are you… going to kill me?", your question is blunt and straight to the point as you pick at your treat, only glancing up at him in quick swipes, sadness pinging in your heart everytime you catch a glimpse of him.   
He looks down at the last piece of his own bun and pops it into his mouth before looking at you and shakes his head. You just nod slightly while taking a small bite.  
"But… you do… kill people?", he looks taken aback by your question. The only answer you get is him letting his head hang in silence.  
"Oh…"

He breaks the awkward tension by reaching down to pick your glass of water back up and handing it to you. Looking up at him, you meet his eyes. Those blue eyes of your Thomas. The Thomas you’ve gotten to know. The one who doesn't kill people. You keep eye contact as you accept the glass.   
"Thank you.", you smile as you feel tears well in your eyes yet again, but you push those tears away. Your first sip is small, but as soon as you get your first taste of the wonderful clear liquid, you quickly gulp every drop down. Your body is apparently more dehydrated than you thought. A chuckle erupts from your side before you feel a big thumb swipe by the edge of your mouth, wiping a stray water droplet away. Your face heats up slightly as you feel his thumb swipe over you and you smile towards him. Pushing away a small urge to lick his thumb as it passes by. Right at this moment, you don’t have any panic in your body. For some reason you’re calm. 

Right now, it feels like you're just two friends having a tender moment.  
Two people with feelings not yet ready to ascend to the surface. 

Not a person held hostage by a broken leg, and a murderer with an arsenal of choices.

Clearing your throat to gain his attention, you suck the remaining sticky cinnamon filling off your fingers and look over at him.  
“Can I ask you something?”, you don’t want to get lost in your rational fear right now, having the need to fill the space with talking, you make a conscious decision to get to know Thomas in person instead.

You’ve wanted to meet him for so long, and here he is. In the flesh. Seated in a lounge chair next to your bed, in all his behemoth glory. And by god is he attractive.

With some nutrients in your body, your brain has started to reboot. Your eyes dance over him. All broad shoulders and big arms, arms only shown because of the black wife beater that clung tightly over his chest, small beads of sweat rolling down his clavicle due to the sheer Texas heat. The hair shown over the neckline glued to him.  
Your eyes travel over the buffé that is this man, they follow the way his biceps flex as he reaches behind to scratch his neck. A small knot grows in the pit of your stomach as you see that familiar tattoo covering most of his right arm, now knowing what exactly it meant. 

That twisted hormonal part of you took over, however, continuing your field trip, you bite the inside of your cheek as you glance on his muscular thighs clad in grayish-blue jeans with wear-and-tear rips at the knees, a strong sign this is a man who works. Your mind flashes back to the photo he had sent you when he first told you his name, and suddenly, you felt the urge to sit on his lap.

You shake your head and discreetly take a deep breath to clear your mind. You almost have to forcefully tear your eyes from his thighs. Looking up at him again, his hair looked ruffled, uncleaned. You twitched with want to tangle your fingers in it, to grab and pull on until you exposed his wide neck to your teeth and tongue, a thought of what kind of sound he would make in your ear as you bite down and drag your ton-.

Your thoughts are interrupted as he taps the side of the bed, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, realization that you’ve probably been staring like a madwoman at this poor man while he’s been waiting for your question must be clear on your face the way he looks at you, a smirk dancing on his lips.  
“Oh… right… sorry.”, you say sheepishly as you try to hide your most likely tomato red face by pretending to rub tiredness away with the palm of your hands. A deep “ _heh_ ” comes from him and you glance at him through the space between your fingers. His hand motions you to “ _go ahead, ask_ ”.  
“Uhm… you never told me you couldn’t talk.”, you look down and suddenly feel really stupid to ask him a personal thing like this. “I’m sorry I… I didn’t mean to sound so… disrespectful!”, he shakes his head and pulls a finger up to signal you to give him a minute as he fishes his phone up.  
You cock your head to the side and look at him with curious eyes as he types away, then a male voice rings out from his phone.

_I can, I just don’t anymore_

You raise your eyebrows.  
“Ooh! Can I ask why? I just… I just want to get to know you.”, your face heats up again as you decide to confess to him, “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long.”, the smile you give him is reciprocated by him, if his eyes are something to go after, before returning his gaze down to his phone to type.

_It’s fine. Disease, took a knife to my face when I was a kid_

The voice stops for a minute, he looks at you and you guess he’s looking for any kind of disgust, but you show none. All you do is scoot down the bed again, moving carefully as to not jostle your leg and get comfortable on the pillow.  
“Please, continue. I want to know.”, voice cheerily.

He visibly relaxes at your words, and it shows. He leans back, and sinks down further into the chair, almost laying halfway off it, the voice continues to spell his sentences out.

_The pain was so bad. It hurt to talk, it hurt to eat, it hurt to exist. So I stopped talking, mama almost had to force food down my throat._

You only hum as a response.  
“So, you just decided to stop talking one day?”, you cuddled into the pillow, the masculine scent of Thomas envelops you and your heartbeat sinks down to a resting pace. 

He nods, clicking from his phone’s keyboard.

_Yeah. The pain was too intense, easier to stop talking, eating is also more fun than to talk, so. Besides, I’ve never really had friends to talk to anyway._

You looked at him with pity, you wanted to hug him so bad. Wanted to soothe the child inside of him that you just knew were hurting.  
“Why didn’t you tell me this?”

_ It wasn’t necessary _

“I guess you’re right.”, you agree with him. It never was necessary, since you never talked on the phone.

You both fall into a comfortable silence. Thomas remains seated in his chair, now lazily scrolling on his phone. You just lay there, looking at him and thinking back on when you first started talking to him. Vaguely remembering what forum it was, honestly not really caring what it was called since you basically stopped logging onto it when you had saved his contact information in your phone.  
You had quickly clicked on your shared interests, but there was something else with him. He was surprisingly easy to talk to.  
Sure, he would go silent for a few days sometimes, but it didn’t bother you. Because you knew he always came back to your conversation. He never did tell you where he lived, and now you knew why. He literally couldn’t.

You have a hard time piecing together the giant contrast.  
The Thomas you had gotten to know was sweet, and passionate about his hobbies. He loved his family and it was clear that he was a family man through and through. He was strong in all kinds of ways. He had also stayed up late during nights just to keep you company, talking about absolutely nothing and everything in between. You’d told him about your life, and he had briefly told you about his.

Although knowing what he did for a living. What gruesome secret he had kept from you, you still saw that same Thomas when you looked at him. Now, when the climax of your panic had died down, enveloped by the scent of him via his pillow, you saw him again. 

Your Thomas.

Not the deranged, murderer, not the… _butcherer_ , you saw nothing gruesome about him. You weren’t scared. You were bought back to those nights where you were in your bed, sharing stupid jokes, and silly videos you’d found on the internet with him. Those nights where you would laugh yourself to tears to some story he had told you from his childhood. It felt… normal.  
But you knew it wasn’t. Your leg was broken, badly put together in a homemade cast, and you were bedridden in a basement where awful things take place.

You’re both startled a bit as you hear the door knock slightly, you meet Thomas’ eyes and you raise an eyebrow as he taps the floor two times with his boot.  
“Huh…”, looking towards the door, an older woman enters.   
“Tommy, it’s late.”, you sit up and lean towards the wall and smile at the old lady, she looks nice, obviously his mother, and you’re happy to see her nice face instead of the old man. She looks at you, eyebrows furrowing.  
“You’re up, good.”, her voice is stern, held back, guarded. All you can do is nod. Her mere presence evokes the need for respect.

This is the matriarch. The one in charge. Not Thomas. Not the old man.  
She is. Being in your position, you know damn well it’s best to give her that respect. 

You follow her eyes as she looks over at Thomas, your heart begins to race as you think this is the end. That he was only saying “no” earlier to get you relaxed enough to not fight back.   
“Thomas, I need to talk to her in private.”, you meet eyes with him and you shake your head in panic. You don’t want him to leave. He looks at you with kind eyes as he gets up to leave. He knows something. He signs something to his mother, she gives him a warm motherly smile before petting him on the arm and nods.  
“Good night, hun. Try gettin’ some sleep tonight.”, he nods back at her and then looks over his shoulder at you. You don’t dare speak at this moment.  
Only waiting for the old woman to approach you, which she does shortly after Thomas has left you alone, she sits down in the lounge chair next to you. Her eyes are neutral as they scan your face.  
“We have rules in this family.”, she starts. And you listen intently as she lists all rules you need to follow, and the reason why you’re still alive. At least for now. 

Ending her one-sided conversation with you, she introduces herself as Luda Mae, but you’re to call her “ma’am”. She makes it clear that you’re not part of the family, that she’s allowing you to stay until your leg is healed, and that the only reason for that is that Thomas likes you a lot. But she also highlights that if you are caught messing with Thomas’ job, no matter how much he likes you, you will receive a punishment. 

Before she leaves you to sleep for the night, she gets up to carry your bag in, and sets it down next to the head of the bed. And that’s it.   
“Thank you.”, you pipe up, and she stops at the door, hand on the doorknob, and looks over at you. “For the cinnamon bun, it was delicious.”. For the first time, you see a genuine smile growing on her face, and she nods.  
“Tommy will be down early tomorrow.”, and with that, she closes the door. 

* * *

Upstairs, Thomas closes his bedroom door quietly and proceeds to kick his boots off, he swiftly unbuckles his belt and just lets his heavy jeans fall onto the floor where he stands, a heavy clanking of chains and keys echoes in his room. He takes a deep breath of unfiltered air as his mask is removed, as he stretches his back pops in a symphony of crackles before he peels off his sweaty wife beater off and just chucks it the general direction of his laundry. A big and tired body timbers down on his bed, a dangerous crack reaches his ears and he hisses slightly and curses himself for - _yet again_ \- almost breaking his bed in half. 

His thoughts are running haywire. He’s thinking back to the beginning of when you started talking, when he first saw your face in a picture. One time you’d sent him a video of when you had dropped something and you laughing heartily in the background at how “fun it is to bake” and “yes, you should _totally_ bake more” and he chuckled. And now here you were. In his basement bedroom. Where he had touched you. Your skin is soft under his rough hands, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to touch more of you. 

He rolled over to his back and stared up at the ceiling, a piece of his bottom lip captured between his teeth as he chews a bit of skin off.  
“Hm…”.  
He gets up and rummages through his pants to find his phone, unlocks it and types out a simple message. 

> **“I can’t sleep.”**

A pure lie since he hadn’t even tried sleeping yet.  
Hitting send, he hopes his mama had given you your belongings by now, which means you would have gotten your phone.

He goes back to bed and lays down, one foot dangling over the edge of the it, pulling up the Facebook he mainly uses for talking and following a handful of friends he’d gotten from all over the internet to scroll through, his thundering laugh the only sound in his room as he sees a few hilarious posts made by some of them. He needed this downtime, something to relax with. Lazily scrolling through his phone usually did the trick for him. It took around twenty minutes and he lost faith in you having your phone before his eyes caught a stream of notifications from you, just hailing in.

> _“Why the FUCK have you been lying to me?”  
> _ _“I thought we were at least open enough to talk about everything”  
> _ _“Are you even the same Thomas?”  
> _ _“Do I know you?”  
> _ _“Did you lie to me all these months to get me here?”  
> _ _“I fucking hate you”  
> _ _“I want to go home”  
> _ _“You really hurt me, you know”  
> _ _“I’ve always liked you”_

All he did was watch as each message came through. He understood your flurry of emotions, god knows he of all people understood this. He’d had them all before, but years after years of bullying has made him a master at hiding his true emotions, vowing to never show anything anymore. All he showed was muscles and rage.   
His thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Not knowing what to say at a moment like this. His years of neglecting his feelings has left him… not good with moments like this. What are you _supposed_ to say? What’s _appropriate?_ Should _he_ confess? Should he let _her_ just talk? 

Of course he knew what it meant to have feelings for someone, he’d had them before. But also knowing how he looked, being the town's freak show, he never acted on any crushes he had. So being this bombarded with emotions was… weird. It was new to him, and for the most part, he didn’t like new things. He locked the phone. Closed everything that had to do with dealing with this. 

The messages didn’t stop, however, the insistent dinging making so he had to put it on vibrate. But even that got annoying after about five messages. He opened your conversation and read through it all. 

> _“I’m sorry”  
> _ _“I just can’t”  
> _ _“believe that after all these months of talking”  
> _ _“me thinking you were a”  
> _ _“normal person”  
> _ _“you’ve been this killer”  
> _ _“a murderer”_

He lost it at the end. And started typing out his response.

> **“you don’t understand”**
> 
> _“oh fuck off with that you don’t understand bullshit, thomas”_

At this point, neither of you really cared about spelling or grammar, it was all just pure emotion filled text. Thomas was hurting, probably just as much as you. He didn’t want to be on this end of it all. He just wanted all of this to be over, hopefully, with you alive.

> _"you can’t excuse murder”_

He locks his phone again and just lets it fall from his hand onto the floor, throwing one arm over his eyes.

_I guess it’s time to sleep, then._

* * *

  
  
You’re abruptly awoken the next day by the door being flung open, and you jolt hard enough for a sudden pain to shoot through your leg, making you hiss. In the door, stood Thomas and he was looking like a combination of angry and tired, this time with no shirt on, making him seem almost bigger than with one on. You only have two thoughts running through your mind at this point.

_Have you grown bigger during the night?  
_ and _  
_Please let me run my fingers through that garden of hair you have on your chest

One arm crossed over his chest, the other typing away on his phone. You just stare at him at first. Not long after, that same male voice rings out;

_Mama told me to shower you_

You give him a defiant laugh, cross your arms and pouts like a petulant child. You hear a sigh, a sigh only amplified by his mask.

_Please, stop. I’m not fighting over this_

“I’m not fighting about the shower.”, you snap your head towards him, “I’m fighting about the fact that you’ve become my best friend and the fact that you didn’t tell me anything.”, you hiss. At the end of your sentence you hear a deep, deep, rumbling… laughter. Thomas is laughing. A genuine laugh that makes him have to lean up against the door frame.  
“What are you laughing at?”, you feel almost offended. 

It takes him almost a full minute to type out a reply to you.

_Tell you what? That I’m a murderer? How was I supposed to bring that shit up? “Oh hey, by the way, I kill people”?_

You catch the way his eyebrows raised up in an obvious sarcastic way, coaxing you to laugh.

_Come on, it’s not something I can just tell you about. I’m still the same Thomas. But I’m sorry you had to find out this way. Or at all, honestly_

You narrow your eyes in his direction. You’re still mad at him, but he does have a point. How _does_ one bring up something as horrible as all this? You battle your rational side, the rational side that strives on survival, the one that’s constantly telling you to get out, that it’s not safe here. But then you see him, and his eyes, and you’re teleported back home. Not one part of you is listening to your rational side at this moment. Because this really is the same Thomas you’ve been talking to. He looks like him, he… talks like him, and he acts like him.   
So you accept his offer to take a shower, and your rational side flips out and internally you throw hands with yourself for this.

Before you have time to reply to him, he’s moving towards you while typing;

_Listen, sugar, I don’t have all day. So up we go_

And before you know it, the bed leaves you and you’re flying. You yelp as you’re carefully thrown over his naked shoulder, your bag being picked up in his other hand.  
You really can’t help the giggle that escapes you at this point, desperately you try to grab on to… something as to not fall off him.   
“Can’t you at least carry me like a normal person and not a deer that’s been shot, you dummy?”, you feel his shoulder shake in what you suspect is a silent laugh. 

For the first time, you see the rest of the house. There’s clinking coming from what you figure is the kitchen, voices talking in a hushed tone. Thomas seems to make a beeline to the stairs as a particularly harsh voice calls his name from the kitchen’s direction, he tenses up at the same time. But suddenly he stops, you can’t see anything other than the floor and heel of his boots, but you can hear a voice.  
“Where you takin’ ‘er, boy?”, it’s the old man that was with you yesterday. You remember his voice. You feel Thomas’ body move and see the stairs under him as he walks up, you can’t help but to raise your head and look down at the old man. He winks at you and makes a disgusting kissing face before turning away. 

* * *

Thomas lets out a small grunt as he sets you down in the bathtub and sets your bag down in front of you in it before pulling his phone up;

_You ain’t allowed to be alone_

He looks down at you sitting in the tub and makes a face as if trying to say “sorry” before pulling the curtain to let you undress somewhat in peace, knees cracking slightly as he sits down on the lid of the toilet. He hears you whine a bit.  
“Does she think I’m going to run away with a broken leg?”, he chuckled. 

_Maybe you’ll beat us all with your cast_

A giggle from behind the shower curtain, and a shuffle. His eyes follow your arm as it reaches out from behind it, your hand drops your clothes on the floor.   
“Maybe I will! I can be fierce if I want to.”, he just hums and reclines on the toilet before your voice rings out again, a little shaky this time.  
“Hey, uhm… Do you mind… helping me out?”, his heart starts to race. He clears his throat as quietly and discreetly as he can.

_With?_

“I can’t reach the shower head and uhm… If you can lift my leg up out of the tub.”, your voice is so low, so nervous. And he can tell. His hands feel moist and he wipes them on his sweatpants before putting his phone on the floor.

With racing thoughts, his heart is going at a record speed. You’re naked. And he knows you’re naked, a thought that’s almost enough for him to cum in his pants. Getting up, his hands shake as he reaches behind the curtain, making sure to keep his face on the outside so as to not see you in all your naked glory, taking the showerhead off its handle and giving it to you blindly. When he feels you’ve taken it, he’s quick to tug his arm back. 

He hears you giggle.

“Thomas, you’ve seen me naked before.”, he’s so, so happy that you can’t see him. Because he’s probably much more red than a fresh tomato at this point. And he can feel it. His face is _warm_.

Of course he’s seen you naked, on video. And pictures. But that’s far from the same thing as seeing you naked… In person. To help you with your leg he kneels next to the tub, he knows he has to open the curtain just a tiny bit and he is _not_ in the mood to show you what lovely tent he’s pitching in his sweat pants at this moment. His thoughts are not of honest nature right now. 

But before opening it, he needs to ask first.

_I need to open the curtain, okay?_

He’s thankful for the somewhat robotic male voice from his phone, because it can’t show how nervous he is.   
Your answer is so simple to him. “Yes.”  
Taking a deep breath he shoves it aside. 

You look so small, curled up with your arms covering your breasts. He looks away from your face when he sees you blush as you notice his eyes, he’s shaking so badly at this point. Yet, he manages to reach out and ever so carefully lifts your heavy leg up to prop it on the side of the tub. His hair falls in front of his eyes, a slight cover for his wandering eyes, eyes he seemingly can’t control at this moment since the majority of his blood has traveled south. His breath hitches slightly as his gaze land on your sex as it get exposed because of the way your leg has to be moved from your body to get propped up, your other not doing much to cover yourself up even if you try.

He gulps and almost way too hurriedly releases your leg and basically throws the curtain closed again as he sits back.  
As the shower starts, he glares down at the throbbing mass of flesh twitching slightly between his thighs in an annoyed way, before mentally cursing it.

_You really have to ruin everything, don’t you?_


	4. Smoked Ribs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEAVY trigger warnings for gore in this one.  
> Don't read if you're really not into the cannibalistic portion. Butchering and shit. And eye stuff and yeah. It's somewhat heavy on the gore.

“Tommyyyyy… I’m bored.”, he shoves you off, probably for the fourth time in just ten minutes. You’ve been leaning over his bulky back for the good part of those ten minutes, getting on his nerves.

It’s been around four weeks since you’d gotten stranded in the middle of nowhere in Texas, ending up in the Hewitt’s household. Slowly, slowly, you’d gotten more comfortable with them, and them with you. You’d contacted your work, telling them you wouldn’t show up for a while due to an accident, explaining everything, except where you were currently staying. You’d gotten chores that could be done sitting down, and best of all; you’d grown closer to Thomas.

You’d had a lot of trouble adjusting to their way of living, however. Many dinners you resorted to not eating, or only eating pieces you saw weren’t meat. But after about a week of doing this, you couldn’t stand the pain in your empty stomach anymore, and you caved. You had to eat, the small amounts of potato and the occasional vegetable not enough to fill you. But you did stay away from Thomas when guests or trespassers came to the house. You knew what it meant, and even if you knew what kind of meat you were eating. You never wanted to see how it was made.

Right now, however, you were bored. And since Thomas was the one who was pretty much around you, or closed by every waking moment of your day, he was also the poor person who had to deal with your boredom.  
During these weeks, he’d taught you a few words and phrases in sign language. Mostly ones he felt were the most necessary, together with the alphabet. Today, he had transported you up to his upstairs bedroom because he was going to work on touching up one of his masks that had gotten ripped at a recent scuffle with a particularly feisty dinner guest. Apparently, he didn’t trust you to be alone for more than five minutes. He was sitting at the foot of his bed, with you laying next to him, supporting yourself on your elbows.

Pushing you off did nothing to keep you from poking him at his side with your good foot.  
“Tommyyy…”, he slowly turned his head to glare at you, and you gave him an innocent smile, trying your best to look like an angel who would definitely not do everything in her power to get on his nerves.

_‘What’_

His hand was slow as he spelled the word out. He was getting annoyed.

“I’m bored.”, you whine.

All he does is shrug and give you a sarcastic thumbs up. You groan and proceed to just lay flat on your back. 

The only ones at home today were you, Thomas, and uncle Monty who were probably snoring on the porch. Charlie was out doing god knows what and Luda Mae was tending to the gas station she worked in. So, here you were, harassing Thomas. You pout behind him, fingers tapping on your stomach as you try to figure out what to do. Then an idea strikes.

You shoot up, thankful for the fact that your leg isn't as painful anymore, making it way easier to move around, even if you couldn’t fully support your weight on it yet.

Another attack on Thomas had you grabbing the mask out of his hands and carefully throwing it on the floor. You giggle as you see him just staring at his empty hands, trying to figure out what had just happened. The action was fast enough to shock him before he lifts his head to look at you. You grin like the devil at him and bursts out in laughter when he glares at you, eyes filled with annoyance, but one eyebrow raised in slight amusement. Again signing slow letters towards you. One at a time.

' _W'  
_ _'H'  
_ _'A'  
_ _'T'_

With his attention, _your plan is set into motion_. You knew he was really careful with you, meaning he would never hurt you or barely even use any strength towards you. You clumsily climb into his lap, straddling his thighs, making him tense like a statue, hands hovering and fingers twitching nervously making you laugh before attacking his sides with your own. His reaction is immediate and he bursts out in a barking and deep laugh, a wheezing sound sometimes escaping his lungs and he falls down to lay on his back.

 _Bingo._ You thought.

As quickly as you can, you grab hold of his wrists and pin them down under your thighs, making sure they’re trapped between you and his abdomen. Previous knowledge dancing in your mind that despite his strength, he’s a gentleman, and never has he shown any violence towards you, especially not in your current condition. So pinning him in a way that at first glance looks sexual, would make him lose any and all strength. 

And you’re correct. You watch him as his eyes shoot open, lips pressed into a thin line, at the realization where his hands are and he squirms. Another devilish grin appears on your face as you lean in close, making eye contact with him before you utter one simple word.

“Talk.”

His eyebrow furrow and his lips turn down and you feel him tug on his arms, trying to get them free to well… talk to you before he shrugs.  
“No, nonono, big man.”. You sit back up and clench your thighs hard around his hands. 

You want to hear his voice. The idea being that if you pinned him hard enough or long enough that he would cave and actually speak to you. You’d heard him laugh just now, so you _knew_ his vocal cords worked. Besides, he’d told you that himself. He can talk, he just chose one day to never do it anymore. So why not take advantage of your boredom and torture him into speaking. It wasn’t like you had any place to be.

“I want you to hear your voice.”, he raises one eyebrow but keeps his mouth shut. “I want to talk to you.”, again, he tugs at his arms. And again, you clench your thighs hard. Thanking whatever power there was that you had good thigh muscles, his response to this action, however, is a firmer tug and you see his biceps flex. But still, he refused to use his full strength, and you knew he was having fun halfway roughhousing with you. 

“Can you stop? You’re not getting your hands for this!”, you laughed at him as he pouted up at you.  
Leaning forward, you poked his lips the pad of your index finger.  
“All you have to do is speak to me, nothing more.”, he playfully snapped his teeth at you and you nearly didn’t have time to pull back before your finger got caught and he laughed heartily at your reaction, looking really proud of himself at nearly biting your finger off.  
“THOMAS!”, you slapped his upper arm but laughed with him before you felt a pain in your cast up leg making you slump down next to him to relax it.  
“You’re no fun.”, you mumble up at him as he just turns his head to look at your own pouting form next to him. 

A yawn escaped you, boredom had transformed into sleepiness. 

“Hey, dummy.”, you say jokingly and pokes his masked cheek. He makes a face at you that screams “really?” and you giggle. “Nap with me?”, you continue.  
He shakes his head and spells out “mask” with his left hand, pointing out that it still needed those repairs.  
“Oh, come on. It’s not like it’s going anywhere, Tommy.”, he still shakes his and you relent. “Fine! Don’t then,” closing your eyes, you only feel the bed shift as he carefully climbs over you before falling into slumber.

* * *

Thomas lands rather wobbly on the floor after climbing over you. He pulls the thin duvet cover over you before he - as discreetly as he can - clears his throat and leans in close to your ear.  
His voice is just above a whisper. Deep, like distant thunder, as he says two words.

**“Sleep tight.”**

He picks the mask up that you had thrown down to the floor next to the bed and trudges over to his desk, slumping down into the chair to fiddle with it. Occasionally he glances over to your sleeping form with your back turned to him. He shakes his head at your persistence to make him speak to you. He didn’t understand your sudden fascination with his voice, but he shrugged, and honestly? It was kind of endearing that you wanted to hear him speak so badly. It was also a plus to have someone to roughhouse with, so he would keep this charade up and keep his mouth shut for a little while longer. 

Checking that you had truly fallen asleep, curled up on his bed, he sneaks down to the basement. He had the rest of a body to cut up together with some cleaning to do. Plus sort a few stray pieces into a scrap pile of usable meat.  
Tying his apron around his waist, he docked his phone into a small shoddy speaker system he was lucky enough to snag from some travelers a while back. Not long after, music streamed through the basement.

He unhooks the most recent victim and grunts as the man is laid down on the table. Thomas looks over the parts he had yet to cut up to inspect for damages, finding none, he hums in delight, this meant there would be more meat for food. He starts the process by cleaning the body, scrubbing away dirt, and caked blood. 

It’s a fast process, and it was a joy for Thomas to cut this man up, he had a good ratio of fat, and it had marbled really well. He nods as he inspects the meat, and makes sure to put this man in the “ _special occasions_ ”-pile. He knew mama would love to have this man for special dinners. He did get disappointed though, as this poor victim didn’t have much around his ribs. Sadly, there wasn't much of a grillable rib on this man, he did save them of course, but they would most likely join the pieces for ground beef in the end.

He wrapped the pieces he got off of the body in packaging paper and wrote the day's date on them, and what parts they were from, and put the packages in the freezer box. Even if the poor man’s face was too beat up to make a mask off, Thomas did find joy in the fact that he could get some, nice and long pieces from the legs.  
Finishing his work, he picked up a slightly sharpened spoon. Despite his big fingers he gingerly stuck the edge of it under the man’s eyelids. Careful, as not to pop the eyes, he scooped them out, letting them both hang by their respective optical nerves. After snipping both optic nerves off with a pair of sharp scissors, he carefully rinsed them under some cold water and put them in an airtight container. His mother had perfected pickled eyes over the years and he loved them, that, and her beef jerky.

He cleaned up and tossed the leftovers of the body into a crawlspace he’d constructed that led out into the forest, knowing scavengers came to clean the remains he put there so he thought of it as killing two birds with one stone. Returning to the table he tossed a bowl of water onto the bloodied table and wiped it off. 

When he finally felt he could end today’s work, he climbed the stairs and headed straight into the kitchen, fingers moving in the air, deep in thought, stomach rumbling. The munchies always hit him hard when working, and he always tries to push them aside. On the rare occasions where he was mostly home alone, he broke the “ _no snacking_ ”-rule his mama had made for him.

Hence, Thomas goes on a hunt through the kitchen. Opening the biggest pantry, he grabs the first box of crackers he can find and basically inhales the entire box. Unsatisfied, he attacks the fridge and finds something he’s been craving for a long time; the beef jerky. Something he also devours like a ravenous animal, he took a few with him into the living room, munching as he went to slump down on the couch.

He loved being alone like this. It was quiet. No Charlie to pick on him, mama wasn’t constantly on his ass for something he had yet to do. Even with uncle Monty home, he didn’t make a sound, probably dead on the porch but most likely not. Knowing no one is there to scream at him for it, he props his feet up on the coffee table and basically lays down across the table and half of the couch, and lets out a deep sigh, almost deflating like a tire. Leaning his head back to rest at the back of the couch, he looks up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, his left fingers tapping slightly at his phone in thought, thoughts that seem to slowly topple over to the forbidden kind. 

_Fuck it._

He thought to himself. And pulled his phone out of his pocket only to head straight for his gallery, he did feel gross for saving that one specific video you'd sent him though, he never asked if he was allowed to or not. He just did it. Looking over his shoulder out to the rest of the house he made sure he was really alone, listening for any movement from you upstairs, or any sign of Monty coming back in.

He quickly swipes for the video, his other hand coming to just rest over his crotch at first. Finally finding the video he was searching for, he presses play and sinks down a bit lower in his seat. It doesn't take long for him to grow and harden under his palm and jeans. His eyes raked over your form in the video. He hasn't watched it since you came here, nor has he touched himself since you sent it. His pants quickly became uncomfortable and let out a sigh of relief as he unzipped and let his erection spring free. Your voice sent chills down his spine, as it rings out from the phone’s speaker, he'd forgotten just how nice you sounded, and he wrapped his free hand around his swollen dick. 

A shaky breath escapes him as he slowly drags his hand down himself. 

Watching when you pump the toy in and out of you in a steady rhythm made a tinge of jealousy spike through him, his fist gripping harder, a finger dragging over the swollen, angry tip to gather a stray drop of precum. A choked groan escaped him as he nudged his barbell. His eyes went out of focus from his phone screen as he looked up in the general direction of his room. Where you were.  
Thoughts wandering to how your pussy would feel around him, moving his hand as far up as he could without letting go, he squeezed it as he slowly dragged the hand down. A desperate attempt at imitating how tight you must feel around him. His eyes fluttered shut as a particularly lewd moan from you echoed from his phone. 

Thomas was desperate. It was so warm. He'd put his phone down as he let his fantasy take hold. Bucking into one hand, the other massaging his balls. 

Glancing down at his lewd activity, he imagined your lips around his cock. Your eyes locking on to him as you let his dick spring free with a 'pop' and how your tongue would dance over his head. It was all so sudden. He tensed up, hand slowing down slightly when he came hard as he heard your climax echo from where his phone lay on the couch with a low moan that transferred to a whine, a slight wheeze escaping his lungs. His cum coated his thighs and hand. He just sat there. Hand still around his cock, hectic pumping exchanged for a slow, lazy stroking motion as he caught his breath.

Eyes half-lidded, the post-orgasm grin on his lips slowly fading into a frown as the realization that he now has laundry to do came to the front of his mind. 

_God damn it._

* * *

You slowly turned over to your back and stretched, a tired sound escaping your lips, sitting up, you noticed you’re alone in the room. Looking around you search for the old, shabby clock on the wall across from the bed.

 _Whoops… two-hour nap,_ you grimaced as your nap had become longer than you planned.

“Tommy?”, you called out. No reply. You groaned as you knew that meant he wasn’t in earshot and not having your phone with you upstairs, preventing you from texting him or calling him, meant you had to either support yourself against the walls and closest furniture to get down to the main floor, or to scoot on your ass.  
“Stupid… fucking… dumdum…”, you muttered as you scooted on your ass out to the hallway.  
Finally reaching the stairs landing you clung to the railing and hauled yourself halfway up it.  
“TOMMY!”, you screamed and pouted at him when you saw him poking his head out from the kitchen, you just hung over the railing and glared at the big figure who started to emerge around the corner and stalk towards the stairs, his whole demeanor screaming sarcasm and smart-ass, as he sauntered closer.  
Your pout growing more and more as you saw his shoulders bouncing in what you could only assume was laughter.  
“Can you just help me?”, you raised your voice and started flailing with your hands that were hanging over the railing, your eyes went wide as he shook his head before that familiar male voice rang out through his phone.

_get your own ass down_

That’s the point where you burst out in laughter.

“Fine!”, you burst out between laughs and proceed to sit down flat on your butt again, preparing to just scoot your way down the stairs.  
You shot Thomas a look that clearly said “watch this”, as you started thumping down the stairs. One at a time, while Thomas just proceeded to stand in the same spot, now leaning on the door frame just shaking his head at your antics. 

**Thump** **  
** **Thump** **  
** **Thumpthumpthump** **  
** **Thump**

And there you were, now laying on your side on the floor at his feet, rubbing your now sore behind with your hand, crocodile tears clear as you look for sympathy he clearly wasn’t giving you as he just took a step over you. Seeing your opportunity, you grabbed one of his legs the second it landed on the floor, your whole body jolting towards him as he stopped suddenly. You laughed hard as you hugged his leg. He turned halfway and looked down at you, a sigh heavy enough you almost felt your hair moving, you looked up at the giant and just grinned at him.

‘Let go’ he signed, but you could see his own grin even if it was hidden behind his mask and you shook your head.

“Let yourself go”, you joked.  
A yelp escaped you as you felt him lift his leg just like you weighed absolutely nothing and started shaking it to get you off his leg. Your laugh echoed in the house. An action that just caused you to clamp on to his leg even harder. It wasn’t until the main door opened and you both heard Charlie’s angry voice ring out that you finally did let go. The atmosphere changed straight away.  
“What the fuck is goin’ on?” You didn’t meet his eyes. 

During these weeks, Luda Mae had warmed up to you. Her view of you had changed during the period, and by now, you were one of them. At least to her. Charlie still viewed you as a literal piece of meat. Cattle. The next one up on the dinner table.   
“I was sitting on the stairs to rest.”, you mumbled as you took a hand Thomas had reached out to you to help you stand and you leaned upon him as he helped you walk over to sit down on a chair in the kitchen. 

Charlie just grumbled and waved Thomas over to him, saying something low you couldn’t hear. However, you usually knew what that meant; unwelcomed company. Something that was confirmed by Thomas as he visibly tensed up. Hands clenched into fists.

He was getting himself ready. Your Tommy was gone. Replaced by a guard dog ready to attack, he turned to you and you couldn’t help but shrink under his gaze. His whole appearance had changed in your eyes. You knew it was time to go up to his room and lock the door, and you nodded to him. As you stood he swiped you up in a bridal carry and headed towards the stairs. You gulped. You hated when this happened. No matter how well you knew they ate people, or… how _you_ ate people, you never wanted to see nor hear it. It was easier to eat and continue surviving if you just pretended. Pushing that part away and hiding it behind the good times with Tommy.

But every time, you worried. You worried for Thomas, worried something might go wrong, worried that these people might be the ones who take him away from you. You’d had nightmares about that a few times. How you wake up alone in the house one morning, the entire family gone, taken by the police, or just plain dead. Those nights were always horrible. Those nights, you always called Thomas asking him to come down to the basement bedroom. Because those nights, you just needed to feel him close to you. Those were nights you curled up and cuddled around his arm. 

Since you’d seen who Thomas really was, since you’d seen the ugly truth about him, you’d deny your feelings. Strictly holding it on a platonic level. But you couldn’t do that anymore. It was time to admit, not only to yourself but also to him.

* * *

Thomas stopped suddenly as he felt your hands tug at the neckline of his t-shirt as he went to set you down on his bed. He grunted slightly and took a soft hold of your wrists to try and pull your hands off. You didn’t move. He pulled his body again, no reaction. At least not more than his body going further downward. His brows furrowed as he started to get annoyed. He didn’t have time for this, not now. There were people coming, which meant he had to go to work. Not play your stupid games. 

His grip got harder, but when he heard his name being uttered every so slightly by your small voice, he relaxed.

“Tommy…”, your voice was so low. You sounded so small, so… different. A tinge of worry tugged in his heart and he knelt down in front of you, he reached out a shaky hand to cup your cheek and lifted your head up so he could look you in the face. What meets him has his heart do a double-take. You're glossy-eyed, tears too close to be welling over for comfort. A stray strand of hair that had fallen forward is tucked behind your ear, and he looks at you with questioning eyes.

He slowly raises and spells out " _yes_ ", wanting you to continue, knowing he doesn't have much time to stay. 

Your breathing sounds as shaky as he feels.   
"I…", he follows your eyes with his own, desperate for you to look him in his eyes. After avoiding his gaze, he relaxes slightly as you finally relent and meet him. But the next two words make him tense up, in a different way. Just as low as before, you whisper them out.   
"Kiss me."   
His breathing becomes ragged, still, as a statue, he looks at you as you lean towards him, but stop just inches from the hole in his mask. Breathing hot against his lips. He's nervous, scared, anxious… _in love_ , but his body won’t move. It’s not listening to him.   
"Please…", the word a mere breath on him. He gulps, and just as he feels the feathery touch of your lips only brushing against his; he's up on his feet.

Footsteps are heavy and hurried. He closes the door to his room and locks it from the outside, something he only does when there are guests coming to the house. Afraid they’ll find you.

His heart is beating so fast, he’s shaky and sweaty. Suddenly his t-shirt feels even more clingy and cramped. He knows he can’t stay like this any longer. He got work to do. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he steps out of his body to let it do what needs to be done. Gone is Tommy, and all that’s left is the shell of a deranged butcherer. A maniac with a chainsaw. 

He still has time to change. When he still had his job at the slaughterhouse, he had a green and red striped shirt. A shirt he still chose when they had guests over. With heavy footsteps, he heads down into the basement.  
After buttoning the shirt up he looked into the mirror, eyes dark and brows furrowed. When things were bad, he never even recognized himself when he looked it, during these bad days his arm guards were the heaviest things he had to wear. His apron was slung over his neck and tied neatly behind his back and the mask he mostly used during these events snugly pulled over his head. The killing mask, as he liked to call it. The one he had to use to distance himself from this. 

While waiting for his signal from the main floor, he sat down at his desk. Making sure everything is secured, making sure nothing will get in the way. And most importantly; making sure his chainsaw is in working condition. Which, of course, it is. He took great pride in how he managed it. Always giving it a good clean after every dinner party. He’d memorized every video he’d found on the internet on chainsaw maintenance, since he knew they couldn’t afford a new one if this one happened to be damaged, one time coming close to it. But that was no concern of him at this moment of time. 

Suddenly, he heard voices from the floor above him, voices and footsteps. And he figured; it’s almost time. His grip on the chainsaw hardened as he rose to slowly and carefully ascend the stairs, sneaking and making a conscious choice to skip the parts that he knew made creaking noises. Stopping at the top, he peered into the eye hole, installed at one point, to check how many he could see.

_Two… two here. Charlie said at least three._

These ones look scrawny, not much to make use of. Shame, he really did want some nice ribs one evening, making him hope the third one had more. But maybe these had enough to make ground beef for burgers… He snapped out of his food-driven daydream as he heard his uncle Monty screaming for him from outside the sliding door. Three hard knocks on the floor were his call sign. And only seconds after the third one had echoed, he burst out. Chainsaw roaring, drowning out any other sound in the house. 

At that, the chase began. 

He managed to get one of them in the leg at one point, and she went down like a tree. Screeching high enough to pierce the mechanical roar, making his ears hurt enough for him to land a fist on her face to make her shut up. 

_One down, two to go._

Hauling her inside, he just threw her down the stairs to the basement, where she would have an abrupt awakening at some point, he’d learn that it was best to take care of them as fast as possible. It did taste better in his opinion. And so, he went off to get the other two. 

Adrenaline is shooting through him. He’s hungry and wants dinner. And if a man wants to feed, a man has to hunt.

* * *

You heard screaming and clamped your hands over your ears. Your own screaming desperate to shut it out. It didn’t help. Putting your head under the pillow and squeezing it around your head didn’t help either. Nothing helps. They were still there. That screaming… That roaring. And the running. 

You jumped when, suddenly, someone collided with the door. Desperately tugging the handle, making the door rattle. You had you press your hands over your mouth to keep quiet, to not scream, to not alert them you were in here. Some sick part of you never wanted to leave Thomas. You couldn’t leave. And especially not _this_ way. When you heard _his_ heavy footsteps stomping towards the poor person trying to get away, you started crying.  
When you heard a squelching, mushy sound, you wanted to puke. And you actually viciously gagged when you saw a crimson stream under the door into the room. 

You didn’t want to think about what he had done to the person outside. You didn’t. You closed your eyes hard enough to see white spots dance across blackness and scooted further up onto the bed, hiding behind the pillow, in pure hope that you would disappear from this madness.

It really did feel like days… months, even before you heard the door make a sound. It sounded like a key was pushed into place, and then it clicked open. Lifting your head towards it, you saw him. Thomas. At least _it_ had his body and his eyes. But it wasn’t him. Not Tommy. You started breathing harder, heavier.

Was he really going to see _you_ ? Or was he going to see… _cattle_? 

He was drenched in blood, pieces of skin and flesh hanging off belts and buckles around his arms. His face… Not his own. This was _not_ Tommy. This was the monster you’d imagined when you first woke up in the basement. The murderer. The butcher of Texas. And for the first time since you’d woken up bolted down on a table, you were scared. You didn’t want to look at him like this, didn’t want to see this. 

“Please…”, you started and followed his eyes as they flicked all over the room, he was looking around. At nothing, and everything at once. Breathing heavy. Hands twitching at his sides before they clenched and unclenched. You tried again, tried connecting to him.  
“Tommy, please.”, his nickname seemed to make the eyes of someone else snap towards you. “Come back to me.”, even if you were shaking like a leaf, you needed Tommy right now. He looked directly at you before shaking his head, and a dark rumble erupted from him.  
“ **No.** ”, and with that. He left again. Bloody boot prints trailing after him.  
“Tommy, wait!”, you yelled after him, hoping to once again connect to him, to get him to come back to you. 

But to no avail.

* * *

  
  
It had been an easy fight for him, barely even any fighting back. They seemingly had just given up as they realized what was going to happen. Something Thomas was grateful for. He wasn’t in the mood for fist fighting or getting stabbed again.

His movements were slow and methodical as he cut them up. Loud music echoed through the basement. He was alone, and the cattle dead. So he seized the opportunity to work without his mask. He wanted to breathe free air. It was really rare of him to actually do anything except shower without his mask, even with the one that only covered half his face, but sometimes. Just _sometimes_ , he wanted to.

His prayers were answered though, as the third one did have more to work with. Meaning; he would get those ribs he wanted one night.   
By the time he started to feel done for the evening, he’d managed to get a whole heap of good meat from the third victim. He wrapped them neatly in package paper, wrote today’s date on them, and put them at the bottom of the freezer box. 

After working for the most part of the night, having three dinner guests to take care of, meant it was late. Really late. His mama had come down a few times, reminding him he had to eat, telling him she had checked on you. At one point, she had come down and told him you’d fallen asleep. But you hadn’t touched your food, and she told him she was worried. All Thomas did was tell her not to worry.  
Hours later, he was done. And finally, he could relax. Finally, he could let go of this persona. He could return to himself again. Very few things made him feel this happy.  
Every piece of his working attire that came off him felt like a stone leaving his shoulders. He was the only one who could keep the entire family floating, and he knew that. 

After hanging the apron upon its hook, after he’d put the armguards down on their table, and after putting his mask back on, he ascended the stairs with heavy steps. He was tired. 

And he missed you. 

His mama had been a true angel and cleaned the puddle of blood up from under his bedroom door and the whole upper floor smelled of lemon. Just as he reached his door, his brain wandered back to what you had told him earlier. What you had done. What you wanted from him. 

And when that thought came back, Tommy was thrown back into his body again, and he opened the bedroom door. His mama was right, you were sleeping, curled up with your broken leg sticking out from under the blanket. You, hugging his pillow with your face buried in it. Usually, when there's been a dinner party, you would sleep in his upstairs bedroom and he in the basement.

But now, things felt different for him.

He checked the time, you'd slept through supper, he just didn’t eat more than a few snacks while working, so he decided it was time for bed. Maybe he could gather enough courage to do what you wanted him to do earlier.  
Closing the door silently, the lock clicked. Boots were kicked off, jeans were left to fall as they were unbuttoned. The heavy clinking seemed to make you stir, and he saw you slightly opening your eyes.  
"Come here…", your voice was low, and it held something he'd never heard from you before, causing a small shiver to run through him, but he obliged and shuffled forward. 

* * *

  
Here he was, Tommy. Your sweet, sweet giant. His body loomed over yours, his hair tickled your face as it fell forward making you giggle, something that was met by a dark chuckle as he wiggled more hair on your face.  
“Tommy, stoop!”, you laughed out quietly, but he shook his head in a mocking “ _no_ ” and just continued swiping his dark locks over you if only for a few seconds more. You couldn’t help but laugh at his dorky behavior. All traces of the terrifying man you saw earlier, blown out to sea. When he finally did stop, your left hand reached out and cupped his right cheek as you tucked some hairs behind his ear. When you saw how he leaned into your hand and let his eyes flutter close, your heart did a double-take.

He stayed like that, seemingly relishing the feeling of your hand on his masked cheek and the way your finger brushed behind his ear, before he finally opened his blue eyes again, meeting yours. You saw how his eyes quickly flickered down to your lips. Where a small smile tugged, and you repeated the same words you had done earlier when he had left you. Voice low, whispering, words only meant for him to hear;

“Kiss me.”, this time, however, he didn’t run away. Your heart picked up in rhythm as you saw him lean in closer to you, his forehead resting against yours. Eyes intense, yet soft. He acted like he was scared, you could feel how his breathing was slightly ragged, you guessed he was nervous. Craning your neck towards him, to reach, he leaned back slightly. Yeah, he was definitely nervous all of a sudden, the thought of this big giant man, who the same day had killed people being nervous about a kiss, was nothing short of adorable. Again, you stopped just short of your lips meeting his, and breathed out that same word;  
“Please…”

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, how his own slowly closed, and then you felt his lips land on yours through the mask. It was soft, not rushed nor forced. You ignored the chappy parts of his lips and relished in just feeling them on yours. Wrapping a hand around his neck, you pulled him down with you so you could both be more comfortable as the kiss deepened. You could easily tell that he was inexperienced, but he did seem eager to learn more, to feel more, and to taste more. 

You caressed his neck and back of the head with one hand, the other carded through his hair. 

Suddenly, he seemed to have gathered enough courage to take risks, and you felt the tip of his tongue graze your lips, kindly asking for an invitation. An invitation you gladly accepted, a moan escaping you as you finally felt his tongue meet yours. You couldn’t focus on how he tasted, he just tasted like Tommy. He was masculine, and dominant in nature when he wanted to be, and right now? It seemed like he wanted to be, his tongue strong and demanding against yours as he mimicked your movements.

* * *

Tommy happily drank in every moan that came down his throat as he danced his tongue over you. He loved this, he loved this so much. The way you reacted to only feeling his tongue against yours, made him braver. His right hand moved from its place by your head and started traveling over your left arm with featherlight touches.  
He gently grabbed your hand, pulling it up and over your head, opening up for easier access to your side, from where he slowly moved it upwards, he knew where to go, but then his body stopped listening to him. You whined slightly as his hand stopped just right under your breast, hand pulling back again as his thumb grazed the soft plump underside. 

His brain caught up to him and he pulled away from your lips and sat up. Face warm and blushed, and he knew you could see it over the edge of his mask and down his neck because you giggled. 

“Tommy, c’mere.”, you whispered to him and he saw how you reached out for his hands, he let you take them, but when he saw that you pulled them towards your breasts again he tugged them out of your grip and shook his head. He wanted to, dear god how he wanted to touch you. He wanted to hear your voice sing for him.

But he was scared. Nervous.  
The only sexual experience being a halfhearted blowjob from one of Charlie’s ugly hookers out of pity, something he figured she’d done because Charlie had talked about him in his drunken state.

But here you were. He just looked at you shyly. His breath hitched, however, when you suddenly rose up and pulled your shirt off. Bed bouncing lightly as you let your body fall down back on to the bed. Tommy’s eyes went wide as he saw your breasts jiggle softly as you lay back down.  
You were so beautiful, and he was just a big giant blushy mess who didn’t know what or how or why, if he spoke, he would probably just be a blubbering mess as well. 

Again, he saw you reach for his hands, but this time, he shakily let you take them to their rightful place. He gulps as his hands are planted right under your breasts, your own hands helping him cup them gently, yet firmly. His eyes shot up to your face as he heard you sigh deeply at his touch. Your head lolled back, exposing your neck, the sight making him wet his lips with his tongue, an urge to hear more from you hit him. 

Leaning down to where your neck met your shoulder he tested his waters and slowly dragged his tongue over your skin, his mask making so he couldn’t envelop his entire mouth over your skin as he wanted. The response he got from you, however, made him truly desperate. 

Sitting up, his hand flew to the back of his mask but stopped right as he was about to unbuckle it. Anxiety hitting him hard. You seemed to notice it, though, as you followed him up into a sitting position.

* * *

His nervousness was clear as ice. But you could see in him that he wanted this. So you took his hands in yours and brought them down from the back of his head.  
“You don’t have to remove it.”, you whispered to him, you saw one of his hands come up, guessing he would spell something, you turned your head towards it.

‘ _Want’_

You hummed at it and smiled. Turning back to look into his eyes, you asked;

“Want me to do it?” You dragged your fingers tenderly through his hair until you felt the buckles. You knew that taking the mask off to snap a photo must have been hard enough for him, so now? Taking it off in front of you? It has to be a real-life nightmare. He sighed deeply, then exhale being ragged and shaky. Yet still, he nodded. You felt his hands coming to rest on your waist. 

“Okay…” You said before carefully and slowly unbuckling it. His eyes were closed during the whole removal. Finally getting it off, you cupped his naked and scarred cheeks, kissing the worst parts. Giving him the love he deserved, the one he most likely never got. His lips met yours again and you pulled him down with you. It seemed like he had gathered up more courage as you felt his big hands wander over your body, still shaking, they returned to cup your breasts. As one of his thumbs gently grazed over a nipple you lolled your head back at the sudden contact. 

That’s when his attack came. 

Lips and tongue made contact with your neck and you _moaned_. A sound that seemed to awaken something in him as he even bit down where your neck met your shoulder. He continued his adventure on your neck until your sounds had begun to die down only so slightly, but it seemed enough for him to go on a quest to hear more. 

His mouth found one of your hardened nipples and decided to give it attention, in between gasping and your eyes falling close, you found and took his hand not occupied with anything and led it down… down across your body.

When it seemed he felt where you had led it, his eyes came up to your face to look into your own. His eyes filled with lust, and want, pupils were blown out, the blue of his irises a stark contrast. 

* * *

  
“Tommy… Please.”, you sounded so desperate to him, so needy for someone like him. Who looked like him. 

He brought his face back up to yours and as he gingerly pushed his hand down into your shorts, he himself made a needy sound as he felt how wet you’ve become because of him, he pressed his lips to yours the same moment his fingers made contact with your wet slit.

A way to cover up the now loud sounds you made as to not wake his family, and because of hunger, he didn’t know he had to swallow every bit of moan you made.

Burying his fingers deep inside you, his thumb rubbed massaging circles on your clit, he panted against your neck, the other hand clamped over your mouth to make sure you didn’t make too much noise, as he moved his fingers in and out of you. At the same time, he slowly ground his erection against your thigh. He wanted to feel you climax around his fingers, he wasn’t entirely sure why, but he needed to. He’d seen you do it to yourself, and a part of him wanted to replace any memory of your fingers with his own. 

He grinned when he saw a shaky hand come up in the corner of his eye and he guessed you wanted to tell him something, but the hand he held over your mouth hindered you, so using your hand would suffice. When he saw you couldn’t fully concentrate, he pulled his fingers from you to give you time. Hand dragging your own slick over your breast to mess with you as he cocked an eyebrow in question.

Your breathing relaxed as you used the alphabet to give your word;

‘clit'

It was simple, a request, guidance, and Thomas were more than happy to please. You looked sweaty, but he happily obliged as his hand gingerly returned to massage gentle, but firm and methodical circles around your most sensitive part. 

* * *

You pant into the palm of his hand as you felt your stomach clench, the muscles in your broken leg tense up. You were close, oh so close, and you wondered if he really was new to this, or if he was just lucky and really curious about everything. 

Grasping at the arm wedged between your breasts that held the hand over your mouth, you opened your eyes, only to find his burning gaze locked on your face. He was looking at you like a hungry animal. His eyes sent full body shivers running through you. The familiar pulsing around your clit became worse as his lips parted slightly, his tongue running over his dry lips, removing his hand from your mouth, he captured your lower lip between his teeth lightly and pulled. A deep but raspy rumble came from his throat as he pushed two fingers into you while still rubbing his thumb over your sensitive nub, your eyes went wide and all it took for you to snap completely was one single, vibrating word coming from his throat;

“ **Cum.** ”, and you did. You came hard. Your whole body shaking under his. Arching off the bed. You tensed so hard, no word could escape. The only sound being wheezing breathing from your lungs.   
You went limp, but you knew that this wasn’t the end. You felt his broad hands slide over your thighs in a calming motion, a finger tapping on you got your attention and you opened your eyes. 

He just smiled down on you, raised a hand, and signed;

_'U ok'_

You breathed out a laugh.

"Yeah… yeah I'm alright.", you reached out for him and he happily put his own cheeks into your hands and nuzzled into one of them. You pulled him close to whisper;  
"I want you, Tommy.", he sighed softly as he pressed his forehead to yours. "I've wanted you for so long."  
You kissed your way to one of his ears, gingerly biting down on his earlobe, he shivered at it.   
"Please, fuck me, Tommy.", you said in a sultry voice and he _groaned._

You cursed your leg since it hindered you from climbing on top of him. You wanted to trail your lips down his muscles, over his abdomen, and to explore the wonderful trail of hair that ventured down from his belly button into his boxers. Pushing him off the bed so he could stand in front of you, however, worked. The angle was perfect. His height putting your face just above the edge of his boxers. Your hands ventured from his thighs, slowly up his abdomen, a small almost unnoticed gasp left his lips as your fingers brushed over his nipples as you reached his pectorals.

Sitting up, your hands groped over his pectorals. You're stunned at his physique. He was soft where you liked it, muscles strong and firm where it mattered the most. You felt a finger under your chin as he lifted your head up to look at him, a grin danced in the corner of his lips, seeing it almost made you forget how to breathe. His grin made you braver and you let your hands travel downwards again while looking into his eyes. He made one sharp inhale as you slowly run your palm over his clothed erection. 

Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you left a trail of kisses across his happy trail, leading downwards until you felt the part of him that seemed to silently beg for you. Neither photos nor videos did him any justice, and you moaned around his dick as his fingers tangled in your hair. His breathing was heavy, snarls and growls emanating from above you the deeper you managed to push his enormous cock down your throat. 

Hollowing your cheeks as you drag your lips and tongue up and off of him, your tongue pressing on the underside massaging lightly at his silver jewelry, something that made him practically pull your mouth off of him with a pop. A clear snarl escaped him when you looked up at him with lips wet and swollen, and you couldn’t help but grin like the devil at him.

* * *

Pushing you back down into the bed, he helped you off with your shorts before carefully putting your damaged leg up on his shoulder, something he had seen on the internet. Looking down at you, you looked so small and innocent, compared to him. An angel; undressed, needy, wet.  
And all of that for _him._ His heart was a drum, dangerously close to escaping his chest. 

He felt like such a creep, a pervert who just stared down at your naked form. Hands groping your thighs and giving each of them a delicious squeeze before caressing your abdomen. One part of him was scared that he would damage you, the other part of him, laying over your mound and throbbing in pure need, wanted nothing more than to imprint himself into you. He jolted out of his reverence as he felt your hands wrap around his length, slowly moving over his head, making it wet with precum before you said the words he wanted to hear;

"It's okay, Tommy… I want you.", he nodded and pulled back slightly, letting you help guide him home. 

A whine and a haggard groan came from him as he felt you slowly wrap around him, and his head fell backward. Warm, wet, and tight. All he wanted at this moment was to keep pushing until all of him was hilted inside you, but a small whimper from you pulled him out of his trance and he was quick to pull out before you stopped him.

"No! It's okay!", Thomas looked down at you with worry in his eyes, but a few reassuring " _okay_ "s and " _it's fine_ "s managed to convince him, and slowly he pushed further in. 

Thomas was soaring at this point. Your walls hugging him in all the right places, your moans and gasps sending shivers down his spine and exploding in his cock. A groan left him as he felt your walls clench when his tongue entered your mouth. Slowly, he started thrusting. 

The first one had you gasping into his mouth.  
At the second, you broke the kiss.  
The third, a particularly loud moan left you, making him have to clamp his hand over your mouth again.  
When the fourth thrust hit, he saw your eyes roll back and you arching off the bed, and he took that as his sign to go to town. 

* * *

You were a total mess. Your head was bleary, your eyes blurry with joyful tears. Your ass is moist from your own arousal that streamed down your thighs as Thomas' fucked into you as a man starved. 

He had hurt first, his dick big enough to split you in two if you were unlucky. But as soon as the pain had subsided, you begged for more. 

For " _harder_ " and " _faster_ ", words that only spurred him on, his thrusts became deeper, hitting parts inside you you didn’t know could feel good. Making you a blubbering mess, his name tumbling out from behind his hand every time the lewd sound of his hips hitting your wet thighs reached your ears.  
So here you were, a hand tightly clamped over your mouth to keep you from alerting the family of your activity with tears of pleasure streaming down your face. 

Suddenly, you felt even more pleasure as he started rubbing your clit with his other thumb. All you could do was look down at the mess he had made of you and up to his eyes.

Him, just as much of a mess as you, huffing and puffing, hair sticking to his forehead, chest coated in sweat, pupils blown wide and brows furrowed, face contorted in pleasure. The sight made your cunt clench around him, squeezing a wheezing sound from his throat.

His attention to your clit quickly brought the familiar feelings of your orgasm. Wiggling your upper teeth free you to bite down on his hand as you looked into his eyes, your own pleading for release. One hard press and a few circles with his thumb made you _snap._ One hand gripping the sheet until your knuckles turned white, the other clawing at his arm, you had to force yourself not to scream behind his hand as you came on his dick. His hips started moving in pure desperation, and you figured he was close. He leaned in, and you felt his lips and tongue brush against your neck before that deep, baritone voice of his came out in your ear again;

" **Haaahhh…** **_fuck._ **"

How he managed to make one word feel so filthy, you had no idea. What you did know was that you wanted to hear it again. And again. And _again_. Wrapping your arms around his neck, one hand entangling in his hair and grabbing a fist full of his dark locks to pull at it to pull his face to yours, your action earning you a delicious sound from him. Tommy is an absolute mess, he’s trembling above you.  
And you can’t help but smile at him.

  
“Are you close, baby?”, you whisper to his lips and he nods fervently as he desperately chases his release. Pulling his hair again, you expose his neck to you. The neck you’ve wanted to taste since you saw his face for the first time.  
Whimpers begin to tumble from him, adorable desperate sounds of pleasure escaping as you slowly drag your tongue over his neck.

But it’s when your teeth sink into him that he breaks down.

* * *

Thomas pushes himself as far as he can as his release crashes into him like a tidal way, pushing you further up the bed. His groaning voice loud but choked, doing his best to swallow the sounds he makes when his cock finally fills you. The pain from the bite shooting through his body and mixing with the euphoric feeling of your walls clenching around his pulsing cock.   
He shivers as he feels your tongue lap over the bite mark. Somewhere inside of him, he hopes it won’t leave a mark, though right at this moment where he’s in the process of marking you as his, he doesn’t really care if it does leave a mark. 

He’s shaking as he looks down at your equally exhausted form. He gives you a tired smile, an exhausted one, and leans his forehead against yours, your breathing a cold refreshing gust of air at his sweaty face.  
He could stay in this position his entire life. Pure bliss. But his muscles start complaining, and he hisses as he pulls himself out to collapse next to you, chuckling as you bounce slightly because of his weight dropping all at once. 

Poking your cheek to get you to open your eyes, seeing as you’re well on your way to a night of deep sleep, he spells out a question;

_‘U ok?’’_

He lets out a sigh of relief as you nod tiredly. Even if he had just fucked every drop of energy out of both you and himself, he’s surprised to see you cuddle up into his sweaty chest. Unsure of what to do, he relaxes just a tiny bit as you laugh before taking his arms and wrapping them around yourself.  
It takes a while for Thomas to relax to the point of falling asleep, but as his brain is slowly registering that you’re not leaving him and that you actually have fallen asleep in his arms, he lets sleep take him, with his face buried in your hair.


End file.
